


You and I, Do or Die

by stargirlinterlude



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, College au (sort of), Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Henry Laurens' A+ Parenting, Herc has a teashop, I just found out that's a legit tag in this fandom what a time to be alive, John is reckless, Like really really slow, M/M, More tags will be added later, Multi, Recreational Drug Use, badass Martha Laurens (in later chapters though), but it's happening I promise, little bit of fighting in the beginning, lotsa cursing, protect maria reynolds, super slow burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-06
Updated: 2017-09-03
Packaged: 2018-09-15 06:50:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 55,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9223799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stargirlinterlude/pseuds/stargirlinterlude
Summary: "You’d think having an awkward crush all throughout college without acting upon it was bad enough, only to have the man himself pick you up a bloodied mess from the side of the road two years later. But that was just John’s luck."For a long time, John Laurens had the easiest life: a trust fund baby in med school, a beautiful apartment with his best friend Lafayette. But when his old crush Alexander Hamilton gathers him from the side of the road after a particularly bad fight one night, it all changes. Alexander finds his way back into John's life, but John is barely sure he'll be able to withstand the upcoming storm.





	1. Redefining Bravery

John’s ears were ringing. It was a deafening sound, knocking him to the ground with a strange comfort. He could hear voices in the distance, felt a fist colliding with his jaw. Kicked his legs where he could reach. A stranger was straddling him now, grabbing his head on both sides and smashing it in the ground multiple times. John grunted and whined, kicked him in the stomach. The man flinched, but recoiled quickly, spitting in John’s face. It mashed beautifully with his blood. _He was his own art_ , he thought, as he managed to give the guy a good kick, turning the fight around.

How it had started, he didn’t really know. All he knew was that he was working his usual shift and saw a few guys closing in on a girl. He’d heard her scream and after that, everything had become a blur.

John delivered a few more blows on the other guy, and rolled over, so he was on top. He straddled the stranger — it was almost erotic, as intense as a sensual dance. He almost laughed at it all, but he was too busy beating the stranger. He launched a few punches on the guy’s nose and eyes, before he got slammed to the side. In a rush of panic John realized the other man had gotten a hold of both sides of his head again, slamming him hard against the floor.

_Two times._

_Three times._

And then everything went black.

 

* * *

 

 

“You with me?”

 

His ears were still ringing, but now a voice accompanied it in the distance. John tried to open his eyes to connect a face to it, but somehow they wouldn’t co-operate. He grunted softly, tried to move. A headache attacked him violently.

“Is that the bartender from Yorktown?” a female voice asked, soft and warm. 

“Yeah, Herc found him. Hey, buddy, wake up. Oh my god, he’s bleeding. Maria, do you have napkins or something?”

The voice sounded awfully familiar, and John’s heart lurched involuntarily. He wanted to open his eyes badly now. The sound of items rumbling through a bag followed.

His head still pounded.

“Here you go. Wait, I’ll do it,” The woman, Maria, spoke again. A second later the smell of cotton filled John’s nose, and he grunted again, followed by a coughing fit. Little stars exploded beneath his eyelids as he tried to open them, to no avail.

“Ssh, it’s okay sweetie. You owe me one.” Maria’s voice was soft and comforting, and John drifted off again.

 

* * *

 

“Should we take him to the hospital?”

A deeper voice woke him this time, and the ringing had stopped.

John realized he wasn’t lying on a floor anymore, and the soft buzzing around him confirmed his theory that he was in the back of a car. A wave of panic overtook him, but it was killed quickly by the beautiful, familiar voice.

“Herc, he’s a beaten up black guy, and we don’t have any money. Don’t think that’d be a nice trip. Besides, I think his father’s a senator or something.”

John grunted. “Please don’t talk about my garbage father,” he rasped, finding the strength to open his eyes at the same time.

The vision was blurry, but he could make out three vague figures in the car he was sitting in. A buff, black guy with kind eyes in the drivers’ seat, a beautiful, familiar woman with bright red lips in the passenger’s seat, and next to him…

_Oh no. Not him._

You’d think having an awkward crush all throughout college without acting upon it was bad enough, only to have the man himself pick you up a bloodied mess from the side of the road two years later. But that was just John’s luck.

“He’s waking up!” Maria, the girl with the red lipstick exclaimed, relief evident in her voice. Blurry Alexander Hamilton’s eyes found John’s and his eyes widened in recognition.

“Hey, I know you! You were a friend of Betsey in college, right? I saw you at a few of Lafayette’s parties, and the Black Lives Matter rally, you were a speaker, or you look like one. John, was it? I’m Alexander, you can call me Alex, but maybe you already know that, and these are Hercules and Maria,” Alexander rambled.

John nodded slowly.

“We’re going to bring you to our apartment, is that okay? We’ll help you clean up there. Oh god, you’re going to think we’re serial killers or something, for the record, we’re not. Although Herc had that one time he almost—”

Hercules— _What kind of name was that?_ —cut him off immediately.

“Alex, not helping.” The man was driving very carefully, but still managed to give Alex a deathly glare through the rear view mirror. Alex shrugged it off, tending to John again.

“You can just drop me off, I’ll walk home from here or something, it’s okay,” John grunted, coughing again. The last thing he wanted was reliving his awkward college memories, and staying at Alexander Hamilton’s apartment was not going to help that. At all.

The car made a sharp turn, causing John to fall into Alexander’s shoulder. He hoped it was too dark for the other man to see his deep red face. Alexander patted his shoulder.

“Dude, you were literally bleeding from three different places on your face. And your arm is in a fairly uncommon position, so that could be a thing,” he grimaced. He placed a comforting hand on John’s shoulder now, but it only caused the poor boy to tense up.

“Maria, babe, could you lend me hand? I think John’s coughing up blood,” Alex said in the direction of Maria’s blurry form. John winced again. _Babe_.

Of course, he knew about Maria Lewis and Alexander Hamilton. Everyone who went to their college did. They weren’t only the two hottest people on campus, but rumors about them dating had been going around for years. Somehow it made perfect sense to John that the two were still seeing each other.

“Oh my god, we can’t just take him home in this state. Herc, bring him—"

“Maria, are you fucking stupid? Herc, please just drive us to our apartment.” Alex turned to John again.

“Can you tell me where you feel any pain?” he asked, his voice and gaze softening. John melted. He realized Alexander’s hand was still on his shoulder, and hid his deepening blush with another cough. He needed to get out of here before he embarrassed himself, he thought bitterly.

“Ehrm… I have a headache, and my arm feels pretty bruised. My nose has been worse though.” He tried to shrug off Alexander's hand, but it was firmly planted on his shoulder.

Alexander smiled, started petting his back now, like he was some sort of stray cat. John coughed again, and Maria gave him another napkin. His vision was finally totally clear by now and he smiled weakly at the woman. Maria winked and turned back in her seat, pulled out a small mirror, and started reapplying her lipstick. John closed his eyes. He needed to get out of here, let Alex know he'd go home. He took a deep breath, opened his mouth—

“I… I should let Lafayette know I’m not making it home tonight,” John rasped. _Shit, wrong words._

Alex eyes bore through him, eyebrows knitted, and then he nodded.

“I’ll text him, I think I still have his number somewhere. Don’t worry.”

A comfortable silence fell, the only sound coming from Hercules whistling under his breath as he drove through the busy city streets. John almost felt calm, with Alexander's hand still rubbing his back kindly.

“Maria, are you staying at my place tonight? Or should we drop you off?” Alex asked the woman in the front, who was now texting furiously. John’s stomach knotted, his comfort from earlier completely shattered. He didn’t want to know Alex was suggesting with that question, but he was fairly sure he already knew.

“Sorry, Alex. Not really in the mood right now, all that blood is kind of a turnoff. No offense, John,” Maria raised her eyebrows but saved a small smile for John. He couldn’t decide if he liked her or not.

“We’ll drop you off, no problem,” Hercules said. Alexander shrugged and turned his entire body towards John again. John noticed the blood too, now. It sure as hell wasn’t Alex’ blood, so…

“I-is that my blood?” he asked timidly, his eyes widening with anxiety. Alexander squeezed his shoulder softly and gave him a beaming smile.

“If we’re comparing how the other guy looked when we found you, I’m pretty sure it isn’t.”

The car stopped.

  
“Maria, your stop,” Hercules announced. Maria, who was still texting, opened the car door.

“Bye guys. John, stay safe. I’ll see you around sometime. Don’t let these two idiots get to you,” she grinned and gave the bleeding boy another wink, before closing the door and walking up to her apartment. Hercules waited until she was safely inside, like the gentlemen he was, and two blocks further he parked his car.

 

Alexander’s – and Hercules’ apartment was significantly smaller than John and Lafayette’s, but very cozy nonetheless. The kitchen was filled with pots of tea and the supporting living room was basically just a pile of pillows and blankets. John was surprised to see such a warm apartment for The Mess that he knew Alexander Hamilton was in college.

“You can take the couch. But I think it’s better if you take a shower first. We have a super fresh first aid kit at home by the way. You’re not the only one beating the shit on a regular basis, so welcome to the club,” Alex beamed while he kicked off his shoes and closed the door behind him with a loud bang. Hercules rolled his eyes.

“Alex, don’t say “fresh.” It sounds so weird when you say it,” he scoffed.

John smiled weakly at Alex, and saw the boy’s face soften. His stomach lurched again.

“Thanks. Where’s the bathroom?”

“At the end of the hall. Oh, and John?” Alex asked, smiling softly.

“Yeah?” John stopped walking and turned around shyly.

“I think what you did back there was pretty great. More people in the world should be like you, John Laurens. And before I forget, you can borrow some of my clothes for the night i-if you want.”

Alex was fidgeting with his hoodie now, but smiled nonetheless. John nodded curtly in response, murmured a “thanks” and promptly walked towards the bathroom.

He felt like he was going to faint, but oddly enough, his headache didn’t have anything to do with that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, my first time actually publishing my fics has arrived! Kinda nervous about it, especially because I’m not a native speaker, so if you see any errors feel free to let me know! I hope you'll enjoy this journey as much as I do.


	2. What Comes Next?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Bruised, confused and accused. This was certainly not a typical morning for John."

John woke up to the sound of two voices, laughing and talking. His arm felt significantly better than the previous night, only the dull ache of bruises remaining. Every time he’d had a fight he’d feel the same type of content-ness in the morning, some sort of lazy afterglow that made him feel like he could do anything.

“Hey Herc, he’s moving, think he’s awake?”

A voice sounded from the kitchen, attacking John’s happiness with all the stress of last night. Right. Alexander Hamilton, Maria Lewis, and the apartment he was in. The way Alexander looked at him before he went to shower. John gulped nervously. His mouth felt incredibly dry.

“I’m awake alright,” he tried to shout back, but only a rasp came out. His throat was a mess, _oh God._

“Great! There’s breakfast here,” Alexander’s answered from the kitchen, the beginnings of a chuckle evident in his voice. A smile involuntarily crept up on John’s face, his feet planted on the floor before he could help it. Breakfast it was, then.

“So, could you like, give me a recap about last night or something? The last thing I remember clearly is Maria being cornered at the end of the street.”  
John was munching on toast, looking at Alex and speaking with his mouth full. Alexander was chaos: his hear loose, bags under his eyes and drinking his third cup of black coffee since John joined him and Hercules at the breakfast table. John wondered if he had a hangover, if he was drunk at all last night. He grinned at John’s question though, so that must be a good thing.

“Of course. Maria, Herc and I were at Yorktown last night, and Maria went outside to make a call, but some assholes surrounded her. When we got outside, you were already beating the shit out of one of them. The others fled after Hercules threatened to call the cops, they were actually stupid enough to believe that.”

John mouthed a silent “thank you” to Hercules. He’d be off a lot worse if he’d had to fight a whole group of assholes, not like he hadn’t tried it before. Hercules shrugged the compliment off easily and grabbed a newspaper, silently skipping through it.

“The guy got knocked out soon after you did, but you got a lot more hits on him. One of his friends came to collect him and soon after that you woke up. I texted Lafayette, told him you’d stay with us for the night. I hope you still remember the rest of it though, otherwise we might have to go the hospital after all, and I’m busy today,” Alex explained casually. John chuckled.

“Believe me, I’m used to worse,” he grinned. Alexander reacted with a beaming grin.

“See Herc, he laughs! He doesn’t think we’re serial killers or kidnappers or something!” he exclaimed happily, poking his giant friend in the arm. Hercules’ mouth twitched upwards.

“Alex, he already knew you. Wait, you do know Alex, right? He said you went to college together.”

“Yeah, I’m in grad school right now, but we followed some of the same lectures a few years ago, we met once or twice. I was a friend of Eliza, though. You know her?” John asked Hercules, who put his paper away now.

“Know her? Sweetest angel I know, that girl. Her little sister works in my teashop,” Hercules answered, a loving glow in his eyes. John looked at Alexander, who was playing with his fork absentmindedly.

“So… are you guys still together?” John asked, observing his coffee cup like it was some exotic research subject. He suddenly felt very uncomfortable; like he addressed something he didn’t have any right to talk about. Images of Eliza and Alexander haunted his brain, razor sharp, cutting open an old wound. _The two of them by the oak tree in front of the university. In a corner with two glasses of wine at one of Lafayette’s infamous house parties. In the cafeteria. At the graduation party. Laughing, shouting, sharing looks of affection._ John needed to know. Alexander shrugged, seemingly unaffected by the question.

“No. I went off for an internship in Paris last year when I graduated early, and we decided to call it quits. We stayed friends though.”

John nodded, too afraid to ask about Maria. His discomfort somehow didn’t disappear.

“Nice. I haven’t seen her in a while, bit of a shame actually.”

“We should hang out with her sometime, I used to hear stories about you all the time in college, she adores you,” Alexander jumped in his chair, enthusiasm dripping off his face. It was contagious, and John beamed at him, mirroring Alexander’s expression and pushing his distressing thoughts to the back of his head.

_Not now._

“I’d love that.”

A short silence fell after that, the only sound coming from Hercules’ newspaper.

“So, John, grad school huh? What’re you studying?” Hercules asked suddenly, promptly putting his newspaper away. John sighed.

“Med school. Have quite a lot of years to go unfortunately.”  
Hercules whistled, impressed. “That shit’s expensive, man. And hard, too.” John awkwardly shook his head.

“My dad’s my grantor. We made a trade; I promised to study medicine, he’d pay for it.” He tried to sound as casual as possible, but he couldn’t help but hear the small waver in his voice.

Alex and Hercules shared a look, frowning.

“But you work in a bar,” Alexander stated blankly. John nodded.

“I don’t want to live on my father’s money. Like I said yesterday, he’s pure garbage. I’m saving up as much of my own money for later. I want to live my own life, not some dream my father set up for me,” he rambled, looking at the wobbly kitchen table.

And then Alexander laughed, mockingly, and a little hollow.

“You’re such a stereotype, with the fighting and the stuck up Republican dad and all. Tough life you got there,” and John swore he heard Alexander whisper,

 _“I should’ve fucking known."_  

A knot formed in John’s stomach. It _was_ typical, that was the problem, but he’d hoped Alexander would’ve understood better. Yesterday he was his hero, now he’s a spoiled brat straight out of a teen soap. Normally an insult like that was enough for him to deliver the first punch, but now was not the time. He didn’t feel anger. Somehow that distressed him even more.

Hercules seemed to notice his discomfort, immediately changing the subject.

“Alex, don’t you think you should get ready by now?” he asked carefully, looking at John while he said it. Alexander looked at his watch and shot up out of his chair.

“Shit, you’re right. Gotta run.”

John helped Hercules in the kitchen while Alexander took a shower. He enjoyed Hercules’ company: he was kind and funny, and hanging out with him was uncomplicated, in contrast to Alexander, who haunted his mind like a parasite.  
Hercules silently decided to drop the subject of John’s trust fund and a smile slowly found its way back on John’s face again as they cleaned the kitchen.

Of course, that was ruined when Alexander decided to come back into the kitchen with wet hair, and two blouses in his hand.

“Herc. Help me. Which one looks better with my tie?” he asked, clearly ignoring John’s presence.

Hercules deadpanned “white,” and continued drying the plates like nothing had happened. Alexander agreed fervently, pulled the white blouse over his head, and shouted a “thanks Herc!” before disappearing into his room again. Hercules rolled his eyes.

“He has a big job interview today, that’s why he’s such a little bitch. Bought a new tie for it and everything.” John raised an eyebrow.

“But you guys went out yesterday!”

“That’s Alex. He doesn’t sleep, so why waste your night stressing about the next day?” John agreed.

“Hey, what are you doing this afternoon? Alex is visiting my teashop after his interview; you should come too! You’ll get a free drink on the house and everything, and you’ll meet Peggy.”

“Yeah sure, I’m free this afternoon, I’ll bring Lafayette if he has time,” John answered cautiously, not really sure if it was such a good idea to see Alexander again.  
Hercules just nodded, finished up his cleaning and got his phone.

“If you give me your number, I’ll text you the address. ” As if he read John’s mind, he added, “And don’t worry about Alex. Like I said, he’s just annoying because he’s stressed. It’s not a good excuse for his behavior, but I promise you he’ll turn around.”  
John typed in his number before giving the phone back. At the same time, Alexander stepped in the room again, and John’s heart stopped.

He was wearing a gorgeous suit, fitting him perfectly, with a blue satin tie topping it off. John had never seen him so put together in all two years he knew Alexander from college. Hercules whistled.

“You actually look like you have your shit together, Alex. I’m sure you’ll ace your interview,” Hercules encouraged his roommate. Alexander fidgeted nervously.

“We’ll see. Now, John, I’m so very sorry to have to do this, but we’re going to have to kick you out.”

He didn’t seem sorry at all, and John left with an empty feeling in his stomach. _Bruised, confused and accused_. This was certainly not a typical morning for John.

 

* * *

 

_From: Lafayette_

03:47 are you okay? I just got a text from Alexander, said you were asleep on his couch, didn’t know you knew him

09:01 have a meeting at 12, what time are you home? Please let me know if you’re okay, im worried

09:31 john ffs answer

 

_To: Lafayette_

9:51 everything's fine, on my way rn

 

* * *

 

“Laf! I’m home!”

The door of the spacious studio apartment closed with a bang. Lafayette rushed towards John from his bathroom, still in the middle of his daily makeup routine.

“John, _merde_ , I was so worried, got a text from Alexander -of all people- in the middle of the night, saying you got in a fight… What happened? Are you hurt? Do we need to go to the hospital?” Lafayette rambled. His half-painted face of makeup was terror-stricken, making him look like a distressed French mime. John almost snorted.

“Laf, relax. I’m fine. Here, brought you your favorite—“

“John, I told you not to get into fights with strangers again! You know what happened last time, when your dad found out—“

“—Laf, stop! Sit the fuck down, and relax, for fuck’s sake.”

John’s harsh tone seemed to ground Lafayette, whom he never shouted at normally. They sat next to each other on the couch. John realized with a snort that Lafayette was still holding his concealer in one hand. He took a deep breath, and tried to summarize last night as shortly as he could. Lafayette listened breathlessly.

“So you met le petit lion?” he asked after John finished his story.

John coughed roughly, his throat still sore. “Le pe-what?”

“Lion. It was Alexander’s nickname at the internship in Paris last year. That boy is a wild animal sometimes, especially during debates. How’d you like him?” Lafayette asked, genuinely interested, and John barely managed to cover up his blush.

“I, eh – he was okay, I guess. I actually met him a few times at your house parties, but it was, you know, nice talking to him. And. He let me stay in his apartment. Which is nice. I guess.”

His blush deepened. Lafayette smirked, now looking like a horror mime. He didn’t say anything though, but patted John’s thigh and stood up.

“Well, I gotta finish my makeup now, mon coeur. Having a special meeting today with big ‘ol Washington.” Lafayette winked, already heading towards his bathroom.

“Gross, Lafayette. He’s your business partner.”

“I know. And it is of the utmost importance to keep a good partnership.”

John threw a pillow at him. Lafayette dodged it, of course. _That stupid, swift, French piece of shit._

 

* * *

 

Washington’s law firm was perfectly located in the middle of New York City, with a beautiful few of the Hudson River. Lafayette visited the place frequently, his family business inheritance having a close relationship with the firm. Sometimes, if John were in a good mood, he’d visit Lafayette during his roommates’ break to bring him coffee and overhear him complain about his cute business partner.

He didn’t plan on going today, he really didn’t. But with the whole day ahead of him and having nothing to do, he felt restless. He tried drawing, which he did everyday, but his portraits had way too much dark brown doe-eyes for his liking. He tried cleaning the house, but with a cleaning lady visiting twice a week there wasn’t much to do. He tried studying his textbooks, but his mind kept drifting off. He considered visiting Hercules’ teashop, only to remember he didn’t receive the address yet, and the fear of never seeing him and Alexander again consumed him. He needed to get out.

So that was why he was standing in front of _Washington & Associates_ at twelve o’clock sharp, two cups of coffee in his hand. What he was definitely not prepared for however was Alexander Hamilton, walking out of the building with the most radiant smile on his face.

That was, of course, before he saw John.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter came out wayyyy longer than I intended it to be, had to split it up in two parts. Not much happens here, but I needed to introduce a few themes and characters. Don’t worry, shit’s about to go down soon enough.  
> I’ve finished writing my outline for this story and everything that needs to happen in the early chapters for the whole thing to make sense, so bear with me! I plan on introducing the Schuyler sisters as soon as possible. I don’t want to give too much away, but Eliza plays a HUGE role in this story, and I love her so much. I'm going to try to upload the next chapter this weekend, I still have trouble with finding a good uploading schedule. Thank you so much for all the positive reactions, I was surprised so many people liked the first chapter!
> 
> Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this one too!


	3. Helpless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "John washed his face, slapping his cheeks multiple times. _Pull yourself together, you oversensitive emotional piece of shit. You’re not eighteen anymore._ "

“What are you doing here, John? How did you know I had my interview here at all?”

Alexander looked down on the boy, who was standing a few feet lower on the big, marble steps of Washington’s lawyer firm. John straightened his shoulders, furrowed his brows. “Relax, not everything is about you, I’m here for Lafayette. You know, my best friend?”

Alexander’s eyes widened, his feet shuffling uncomfortably. He almost looked… apologetic?  
“Right. Well, I have to go.” He walked towards John, softly brushing against his shoulder, making him shiver. When Alexander was out of his sight, his phone buzzed in his pocket.

 

_From: Unknown Number_

12:04 Hey John, this is Hercules, sorry I didn’t text you sooner. Here’s the address. I hope you drop by later! I’ll make sure Alex is nice to you.

12:05 _U_ _nknown Number shared an address with you_

 

* * *

 

“John, you’re an angel. I couldn’t be in a worse mood, Washington decided to call in sick today and send a representative, and I’m bored out of my mind. I’ll bet he’s just nervous to see me,” Lafayette rambled on as he walked with John through the high-arched halls of the building. John listened silently and patiently. He was pretty sure he could memorize this monologue by now, having to hear it almost everyday. He didn’t mind though; that’s what best friends are for.

“So I’m going to visit Hercules’ teashop later today, he’s Alexander Hamilton’s roommate. Wanna join?” John asked as Lafayette finally finished his story to drink his coffee. His friend nodded enthusiastically.

“Of course, I love meeting new people! I’m done here in an hour, I think. I have a few reports to look at, but after that, I’m done for today. You can wait in my office if you want.”

John shrugged. “Sure. Oh, and Laf? I kinda stole your concealer.”

Lafayette rolled his eyes. “I know that, dumbass. Your face isn’t nearly as pretty as it looks now, and black eyes never heal that quickly. You okay, though?”  
John only laughed, and Lafayette poked his shoulders playfully.

 

* * *

 

To John’s surprise, Hercules’ teashop actually wasn’t that far away from Washington’s firm. Lafayette was finished half an hour earlier, loudly proclaiming he was “done with his life” and that “there was no point in continuing.” John had the vague impression Washington’s absence had a lot to do with that.

He once jokingly said to Lafayette that the only reason he liked his job was cute businessmen, and Lafayette’s hurt reaction had said it all. He was a prodigy nonetheless—both he and John were. The world was their fucking oyster. They shared the same irony; doing what everyone wants, but not wanting it. They never spoke about it, but it was as clear as day. When John came home with his face as white as a ghost after a full day of dissecting human bodies, for example. Lafayette hadn’t said a word; he just grabbed his make-up bag and silently started painting John’s face. It had been one of the pictures on his Instagram that went viral, launching off his internet career. John was happy for him, but he was painfully aware of the fact that he didn’t have anything to numb the discontentment. He loved drawing, of course, but somehow that always made it worse, subconsciously reminding him of everything he wanted that he could never have.

 

The teashop was perfect. The colors and interior had something to it that screamed “Hercules Mulligan,” radiating the same greatness the name itself held, yet the entirety was somehow cozy and warm. Hercules explained that the concept of the store was inspired by the Boston Tea Party, and he sold his tea in blocks similar to how tea was made back then. After his ramble he introduced himself to Lafayette – Lafayette held his hand a bit too long, because of course Hercules was his type, looking like the bolder, hunkier version of Washington – and brought them to the back of the store.

“The whole idea is to have the best of two worlds, without being cliché. We sell tea and teapots, and we serve our products in the back. It’s not a common as a coffee shop, and when people actually get to taste the tea - in a cozy environment - they almost always buy it themselves afterwards.”

John and Lafayette nodded fervently as Hercules lead them trough the shop, both a little overwhelmed. They sat down at a small table, and Hercules started making wild gestures to the waitress behind the bar. The girl rolled her eyes and headed towards them. She was lovely, hair in a sloppy bun and face a little flushed with sweat. She wore a bright yellow summer dress with an old-fashioned apron. John wondered with a grin if it was Hercules’ idea to wear those in the shop.

“’Sup, Mulligan?” the girl asked, voice perkier than she looked. Hercules shoved her.

“Don’t talk to your boss like that, Margarita. Anyways, I wanted you to meet these people. This is John, a friend of Alex and mine. He kicked some serious ass last night – how’s the back of your head, anyways? – And this is Lafayette, a friend of John’s. Alex knows him from college, says his houseparties were legendary.”

The girl grinned cheekily. “Hi guys. Please don’t call me Margarita, it’s Peggy. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

Lafayette rose from his seat to give the girl two kisses on each cheek. Peggy made a disgusted face, but her lips betrayed her by curling upwards. John smiled warmly at her. “Nice to meet you, Peggy. I was a friend of you sister in college.”

Peggy’s eyes lightened up, looking like the sun herself in her bright dress, and John already liked her.

“Pegs, you can sit down. It’s quiet at the moment anyway,” Hercules said. Peggy couldn’t obey quickly enough. She threw herself in the chair next to John with a loud _oof_ , before grabbing the pot of tea on the table and pouring herself a drink.

"Mulligan, don’t ever let me work mornings again, my headache is killing me."

"I told you not to go out last night. Besides, I always open up, so you have no right to complain. John, how's your head doing?"

"It’s fine. Like I said yesterday, I’m used to worse. Advil and makeup, the secret formula."

Peggy raised her eyebrows. “What happened yesterday, anyway?”  
Hercules grinned and clapped John on the back. “Well, Margarita…"

 

* * *

 

John and Hercules were in the midst of animatedly telling Peggy about last night, with Lafayette making obnoxious sound effects, when Alexander decided to burst in the shop, his face radiating.

“Finally, you said you’d drop by an hour ago!” Hercules shouted as Lafayette was in the middle of making (very unrealistic) car noises. Alexander hurriedly sat down in front of John, almost knocking over two teacups in the process. Hercules and Peggy winced at the same time.

“I had to swing by Maria’s for a bit, but everything’s fine. John, Lafayette, nice to see you,” Alexander rambled, shaking Lafayette’s hand wildly. Hercules cleared his throat, and Alexander turned to John. He took a deep breath.

“Please forgive me, I was a dick but I was stressed and I shouldn’t have let it out on you but I’m not stressed anymore and I’m sorry.”

John saw Hercules crossing his arms, nodding contently, and he couldn’t help but laugh.

“It’s alright, I guess. You did have a point, you know. I’m a horrible, horrible stereotype. But you’re kind of a hypocrite, seeing as you got a job at Washington’s.” John grinned.

And Alexander grinned back. “Not yet! They’re going to call me back in about a week. But you know what? If I do get the job, drinks are on me.”

“He’s never going to buy you drinks, he can’t even afford noodle soup for dinner,” Hercules deadpanned. John laughed again, louder this time.

“Can someone please explain to me what happened? Goddamn, I feel like the fucking supporting cast now,” Peggy whined. Alexander patted her puffy hair.  
“Nice to see you too, Pegs. And it’s not a big deal; I was a bit of a dick to John here this morning, but he’s too nice for this world and he forgave me and I absolutely _aced_ my interview, even though the guy who interviewed me was also a bit of a dick, Charles _fucking_ Lee, and now I’m _starving_ , so if you could please pass me the scones so I can overdose myself on them-“

“Alexander, please, talk less,” Lafayette groaned, “I haven’t seen you in almost a year and you’re here for five minutes and you’re already giving me a headache.”

Alexander slapped him playfully. “It’s nice to see you too, Laf. Now, why haven’t you introduced me to your cute rich roommate in all those years? I could’ve used a sugar daddy when we were in Paris.”

“Alexander, you met me like, three times before.” John raised his eyebrows, trying his best not to visibly respond to the “sugar daddy” remark.

“Right, but it doesn’t count when I’m drunk!” Alexander exclaimed.

“You were drunk yesterday, Alex.”

“Herc, this is something between me and John.”

“Just saying.”

Their conversation flowed easily after that, time passing quickly. John felt warm, the restless feeling he had earlier totally vanished. And when he looked at Alexander, so close and so much more real than his imagination had been all those years when he had to admire from a distance, he could hardly believe his luck.

“—John?”

He snapped back out of his daydream, Alexander’s fingers snapping in front of his face.

“There you are. I just said I’m going to make a groupchat, so give me your number. We’re getting drinks in a week, because I obviously blew Washington away.”

“The only one to blow Washington away is Lafayette,” John huffed under his breath, earning a painful kick in the shin from under the table. Alexander hadn’t heard him though, and he pushed his phone in John’s hands. John typed his number in the shabby-looking smartphone, fingers trembling slightly. He gave the phone back, and Alexander started adding more and more people to the list.

“Great. So I’ll put Angie and Eliza in it as well, they should come too. But please don’t tell them I was going to buy drinks, I only have enough money for the five of us-" Hercules mouthed, “told ya,” towards John, making him laugh silently– “and please don’t spam too much, I can’t put my phone on silent because Washington’s firm might call me but I actually have a lot of work to do-"

“It’s fine, Alexander,” John chuckled. Alexander beamed.  
“Great.” He looked at his phone, “Now, I’m going to have to excuse myself, I just got a text from Maria. I’ll see you guys in a week.” And just like that, he rushed out again.

 

* * *

 

**_One week later_ **

 

_From: Alexander Hamilton_

12:03 Hey assholes

12:03 Guess who just got a job at Washington’s

 

_From: Peggy Schuyler_

12:04 Drinks on you!! You promised, Hammy

 

_From: Alexander Hamilton_

12:04 istg, im going to kill you, Margarita

 

_From: Angelica Schuyler_

12:05 no you won’t, you sad, sad man (congratulations on the job tho)

12:05 oh and I’m claiming my cosmopolitan btw _*kissyface emoji*_

 

* * *

 

Alexander was smoking like his life depended on it; one hand in his pocket and his left hand grasping his cigarette like it was the only thing keeping him from falling apart. Maria stood in front of him, her hands in her hair.

“Alex, please. I need this, I need you. You told me you’d help." Her voice almost sounding deranged, and Alexander stared at the ground, pointedly ignoring Maria’s eyes.

“I can’t do anything, babe. You need to fix this yourself, I can’t help you-“ He hated it when Maria cried. Or anyone, for that matter.

“You promised you’d help me. You promised me!” the tears were streaming over her face now, and Alexander had no idea what to say. He ran a hand over his face, at a loss for words. His phone beeped.

 _From: John_  
22:47 do you guys need a lift or anything tonight? I won't be drinking , so I can drive you if you want

He involuntarily smiled at his phone, already starting to type his response. Maria furiously shoved his shoulders.

“You huge piece of shit! Am I worth that little to you?! You know what, it’s fine. I don’t need your help, I never want to see your face again, you stupid prick!”

Alexander put his phone away and raised his hands. Maria looked disheveled and helpless, but that didn’t stop the boiling anger in his gut from lashing out.

“I told you, Maria, I can’t help you! Jesus fucking Christ, I’m not made of money! I paid your rent for two fucking months and you didn’t even try to find a job! Don’t blame it on me you’re getting kicked out, besides, you’re the one who’s always texting when we’re together! Who’s the selfish one, huh? How many times do I have to say this: _I’m not your fucking boyfriend!_ I don’t owe you anything!”

He was gone before she could lurch at him.

 

* * *

 

 

_To: John_

22:55 sorry, got held up for a moment

22:56 so im going to have to woo you with alcohol-free drinks? not very hot tbh

 

_From: John_

22:57 hey, cola is REALLY sexy if you ask me

22:57 who still uses “woo” anyways??

 

_To: John_

22:58 pick us up at 12 ;)

 

* * *

 

“Jesus Christ, Laurens. Good thing I didn’t know you drove a fucking jeep last week, otherwise I would’ve been much worse,” Alexander breathed, as John stopped his car in front of the apartment complex with screeching wheels. John - fortunately – could laugh about it, hopping out of his car with a relaxed swing. Lafayette was sitting in the passenger’s seat, applying his makeup nonchalantly.

“Your carriage awaits, you highness,” John bowed ceremoniously, and Alexander laid a hand over his chest.

“Why thank you, kind sir.” He climbed into the back seat, Hercules following him into the enormous car. They greeted Lafayette, who happily bounced in his seat when he greeted them. Then, he grabbed John’s phone, and handed it over to Hercules.

“Type in the address, you should never trust John’s sense of direction,” Lafayette exclaimed. John started his car as Hercules gave Lafayette the phone back. They fell silent for a while, the only sound coming from Lafayette, complaining about John’s driving style.

“John, I’m never going to finish this look properly if you keep driving like Nicholas Cage,” he whined, failing to apply his lipstick. Alexander chuckled.

“I have to say, Laf, you did improve you makeup skills. Didn’t think you had it in you when you started wearing lipgloss in college,” he teased.

Lafayette groaned. “2013 was a dark year, don’t remind me.”

John’s laugh filled up the car, followed by a screech coming from Lafayette when he almost goes into a skid.

The nagging feeling Alexander had about John’s background hadn’t disappeared completely, but he decided to give the boy a chance. Besides, the last time he sat in such a huge car was when he’d arrived in America, and the experience was still somewhat dazzling.

“You okay?” Hercules asked, snapping him out of his thoughts.

“Just counting how many drinks I can buy without missing meals this month,” he laughed nervously. He caught John’s beaming smile in the rear-view mirror, comforting him without words.

 

* * *

 

“So you're telling me you don’t have enough money to buy all of us drinks, but you still bring us to one of the fanciest places in Brooklyn?” John asked Alexander, frantically searching for a parking spot at the same time. He had been to this club before: it wasn’t that far from Yorktown, and it was a regular thing to go out with his colleagues when they managed to close up early.

“Shut up, Laurens. Oh, Angie just texted me. Eliza couldn’t make it, she has work tomorrow, but Angie and Pegs are coming,” Alexander said, rapidly texting back. John gulped; he hadn’t seen Angelica since college, and he was always a bit afraid of her. She always thought he was secretly dating Eliza, and her threats still gave him nightmares sometimes. _If you hurt my sister, I’m going to make sure you’ll never have any progeny._

John eventually found a parking spot, and the group met up with the two Schuyler sisters in front of the club. A very impatient Angelica was waiting next to her little sister, arms crossed and feet tapping the ground.

“Hurry the fuck up, Hamilton. I bet the paparazzi is already searching for us, and I wasn’t planning on seeing my face on the front page tomorrow.”

“Complaining won’t get you anywhere Angie, there’s a Laurens in our midst, so you don’t get to play the “famous dad” card this time. Republican progeny is worth WAY more to the media than your father's democratic ass.” Alexander walked towards the intimidating woman with a wolfish smile and shamelessly pulled her in for a hug. Angelica stiffened, eyes widening, before patting him on the back. Her gaze softened as she said, “the last time you were that friendly you needed me to write a recommendation letter for that stupid law firm.”

Peggy, who was standing beside her, waved happily at John and Lafayette, “nice to see you again, guys!”  
She turned to Hercules, eyes hardening. “Mulligan, I am not going to open up tomorrow, your friend invited me so you can shove your tea up your-“  
“Pegs, relax. I just texted Van Rensselaer, he’s taking your shift. I think he likes you,” Hercules responded, waggling his eyebrows. Peggy rolled her eyes.  
“You know I’m not interested.”

Meanwhile, John turned to Alexander. “So, am I getting that free cola or what?”

 

* * *

 

The walls were sticky and the music was drumming in John’s ears. The group was separated quickly: Lafayette disappeared in the crowd on the dance floor, with Peggy trailing behind him closely, Angelica and Hercules had stayed outside to smoke first, and Alexander had grabbed John’s arm, dragging him towards the bar.

“So, why aren’t you drinking tonight?” Alex shouted in John’s ear, almost inaudible over the drumming noise.

“I have this stupid practice group tomorrow, and I tried going there with a hangover before. I wouldn’t recommend it,” John roared back. They arrived at the bar.

“One cola and a beer, please,” Alex ordered. He turned to John again, screaming, “do you come here often?”

John rolled his eyes. “Buying drinks and using the most generic pickup line in the world, not very impressive.”

“Hey, I’m genuinely curious. What is your go-to place? Is there a special “rich kids” club somewhere? Or do you only do houseparties? You know, I can see why you and Laf are friends, the whole stereotype fits the both of you like a glove,” he rambled, playfully poking John’s elbows while they waited for their drinks. John didn’t hear half of it, but he laughed anyways.

“I’m glad you’re so comfortable talking about something you actually insulted me with a week ago,” he remarked. Alexander huffed. “I apologized about that, so forget about it. Hey, Angie and Herc finally showed up!”

He started waving his hand, watching as the both of them walking towards the bar. The bartender gave John their drinks, and Alexander handed over his money.

“Are they, y’know, good friends?” John asked, looking at Hercules and Angelica.

Alexander’s eyes widened. “You mean, like, _good_ good friends? No way. They don’t see each other that much, they’re just mutual friends of mine who happen to smoke together. Besides, Angie’s not looking for a relationship,” he shouted in John’s ears, body shifting closer. He laid a hand on John’s shoulder for support as he continued rambling.

“She’s a blessing, we share the same mind. Why settle down and all that, you know? We don’t understand it. I dated Eliza for years, and to be honest, domestic life is a bore. People are created to be alone, so why force yourself in such a restriction?”

John could only nod, a cold feeling creeping up on him. Angelica and Hercules were still making their way towards the bar, and Alexander kept on shouting in his ear.

“Don’t get me wrong, I love people. Girls, boys, I don’t care. But they’re always looking for more, always asking for breakfast the morning after. Angie never does, and I love her for it.”

Angelica tapped him on his shoulders now, and John breathed a sigh of relief. He really, _really_ didn’t want to pursue this conversation. His eyes searched through crowd for Lafayette, suddenly getting the choking feeling he wanted to leave this place.

“I gotta pee,” he shouted towards the three people in front of him, and abruptly walked away. He stumbled in the dark restroom, pinching his nose. It reeked of puke and sex, and the mirrors looked like they hadn’t been cleaned in years. John washed his face, slapping his cheeks multiple times. _Pull yourself together, you oversensitive emotional piece of shit. You’re not eighteen anymore._

When he came back, Alexander was still standing at the bar, with his tongue far down Angelica’s throat. John immediately joined Lafayette on the dance floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had the most hellish week, filled with uni applications, stupid school presentations, and being ill all at the same time, and this chapter was a bitch to write, but it's super extra long so ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯  
> I'm planning on writing more from Alexander's perspective, the scene with Maria was a little prelude. I relate to Ham a lot, because I'm also a furious bisexual, and I too don't have my shit together in the slightest. 
> 
> I loved reading everyone's feedback on the previous chapters, and I can't wait to publish the next one! It's probably going to take a week or so, since I have exams next week and I'm procrastinating like the piece of shit I am.  
> Thanks for reading!


	4. Look Around, Look Around

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Of all people in the world, you run into John Laurens after one of his thousands of fights, in such a big city. That’s not even coincidence anymore, if you ask me."

_He didn’t know where he was… a hotel? A club? A random party? The crowd was loud merciless, knocking him over multiple times. He struggled to push off the many, many people, feeling sticky and uncomfortable._

_And then he saw the boy._

_He was dancing, dancing like no one was watching yet everyone was watching and everyone wanted to watch him, the star boy, the angel. The halo behind him made his freckles stands out, making him all but ethereal. He looked at him, he actually looked at him, and the Honest to God sun shone trough his eyes, blinding him yet making him see so much more—The boy offered his hand, and he wanted to grab it, so bad, so—_

 

Alexander awoke with a start. He grunted, a headache overwhelming him. He looked at Angie, laying next to him, a few freckles splattered across her face in a mock imitation of the boy in his dreams.  
He sat up, looking at his phone for the time, ignoring all his new messages. _05:47_. God bless, he still had time to slip out of this place. He got out of bed silently, grabbed his clothes off the floor, and started dressing as fast as he could. He didn’t remember much of last night, only a lot of shots with Angelica, and the weird dream. A soft voice startled him.

“Where are you going?”

Angelica was barely awake, voice a rough whisper. Alexander turned around.

“I have a few papers to finish for this afternoon, go back to sleep.”

His response seemed to have the opposite effect, making Angelica sit up perfectly awake. _Why did she always look so put together, even after a night of being completely smashed?_

Alexander sighed, too tired to mentally prepare him for whatever storm about to come out of her mouth.

“Alex, you always do this. We both know you’re not going to work on an essay at six in the morning,” she accused. Her gaze was too soft, she wasn’t supposed to look this gentle, and Alexander looked away, embarrassed.

“Angie, go back too sleep.”

“No. I want to talk about this. Stop shutting me out.” She patted on the end of her bed, a silent demand. Alexander ignored it.

“I’m not shutting you out, I don’t want you to be tired, that’s all.”

Angelica groaned. “You always do this. I’m not stupid. Alex, I know we already spoke about this before, and I know I said I didn’t care, but I still have to ask–” And then came the drop,

“What are we, Alex?”

Alexander shut the door behind him.

 

* * *

 

Angelica’s place was fairly far from the city, and Alex knew that at the time he would arrive at his own apartment it would be around 7:30, so his timing was actually not that bad. He’d start at Washington’s on Monday, and today was Friday, so he could spend all weekend preparing and reading. _No going out if you have unfinished work_ , it was his golden rule.

The train was, as expected, deserted. Alexander found a small seat in a corner, fell down next to the window, and closed his eyes. He had exactly forty-five minutes to sleep.

Yet sleep didn’t come. So he gave that up, grabbed his phone. From the way it was buzzing the past couple of minutes, Alexander was sure Angelica was bombarding him with messages right now. He sighed as he read through his new messages, confirming his theory.

What now? He lost his best friend tonight, his mind-sharer. He used to brag about it at university, used to laugh about it with Eliza. God, how he missed her sometimes. _His Eliza._ Except she really wasn’t, never really was.

His mind wandered, and at some point he caught himself thinking about the dream. The strangest thing was the lack of lust. Alexander almost never dreamt, and when he did, it was in black and white, and always, _always_ , about sex. Most of the time, daily life was already so fast-paced his subconscious was too tired to form any cool or interesting stories in his dreams. Except for this night. The more he thought about it, the more ridiculous it became. The worst part of it all was that he couldn’t stop thinking about that _damn boy._

It was so cliché it made Alexander want to puke. But maybe the amount of tequila–and vodka shots he’d had last night had something to do with that, too.

* * *

 

_To: John_

6:16 hey, how was the rest of last night?

6:17 wanna hang out today? you and laf can come over, if you want.

6:17 nvm im sorry if I woke you

 

_From: John_

8:04 why in your right mind would you think I was awake at 6 after a night out??

8:04 and it was fine, laf’s a great dance partner

8:05 can’t make it today, maybe some other time

8:11 everything okay though?

 

* * *

 

John stared lifelessly at his notes, splayed out in front of him. Practice group, the actual worst nightmare, was even worse when sober, he just found out. A hangover was a better excuse to hate it then having to admit he just didn’t like it at all. Meanwhile, his phone kept buzzing in his pocket. He tried to ignore it for half an hour, and then he gave up, shoving his chair backwards with a nails-on-a-chalkboard-noise.

“I have to go to the restroom,” John announced to the–extremely quiet–group of students in the room. When he was in the hallway, he realized with an ironic snort that he’d have to improve his variety of excuses. He grabbed his phone; Alexander had spammed the living shit out of him.

 

* * *

 

_From: Alexander_

8:30 everything’s fine, kinda drank too much last night

8:30 i almost puked out my stomach in the train rip me

8:31 angie suddenly wanted to have “the talk” with me, how crazy is that?

8:31 I mean, you don’t really know us that well

8:31 but you know

8:32 since I told you abt us last night

8:34 you n laf can come over in a few days for beer and movies?

 

_To: Alexander_

9:13 should’ve eased down on the tequila pal

9:13 and yea, sure, ill ask laf

9:14 this practice group is sucking the life out of me I’m not kidding I feel dead

_From: Alexander_

9:13 poor johnny, need me to rescue you?

 

_To: Alexander_

9:14 don’t call me dad

9:14 that*

 

_From: Alexander_

9:15 daddy ;)

 

_To: Alexander_

9:16 you’re insufferable

9:16 istg if you’re holding on to the sugar daddy thing I’m going to throw up

 

* * *

 

“I think I’m going to cancel work for the next four months. I tried every concealer I got, but my eye bags, John. They’re going to be the end of my career,” Lafayette whined. He was sitting cross-legged in the abhorrently big living room, the same position as how John left him in the morning. His makeup was scattered around him in a big pile.

“Laf, you inherited your own business, no one’s going to end your career but you,” John said, rolling his eyes.

“I meant my real career, the one I actually work hard for, you ass,” Lafayette huffed. John shrugged and flopped on the couch behind his best friend, grabbing the remote and putting on their ridiculous flat screen TV, a gift from the _lovely, generous_ Henry Laurens. They fell silent for a while, the only sound coming from bridezilla’s screaming on TLC, with Lafayette still trying to "save his career," and John dozing off lightly.

When he woke up, Lafayette had made them coffee, the angel. They drank it in relative silence (if you counted out Lafayette disgustingly eating outdated biscuits with his mouth open). John cleared his throat.

“So, Laf, how close are you and Alexander?”

Lafayette was sitting in the chair next to the couch now, lazily typing on his phone. He didn’t look up when he responded, “Why do you want to know?”

“Because,” John started, “he kept treating you like an old friend and all that, but you weren’t that close in college, and I never heard you talk about him when you speak about Paris. It’s always about Jefferson, then.”

“Easy, I was fucking Thomas at the time, but Alexander hated him. He turned out to be right, and the few weeks before my department to New York we became friends.”

John’s mouthed formed a small “o,” not really knowing what to answer.

“Is he always this… promiscuous?” he eventually blurted out. Lafayette laughed.

“You mean with the Angelica, Maria and Eliza thing? And the fact that he’s the kind of bisexual that ends up getting the hot threesomes with two other guys when going out? Definitely. It was hilarious in Paris, especially when he tried to flirt in French,” Lafayette leaned slightly towards John and conspiringly adds, “He thinks he’s fluent, but he has the worst accent I’ve ever heard in my entire life.”

John tried to mimic Lafayette’s laugh from earlier.

 

* * *

 

“You finally called! I started to think you thought I disappeared or something!” Her voice was warm and sweet, as it always was.

“Betsey, I literally invited you to go out with us yesterday.”

“I know that. But you promised me we’d do something together soon.”

“I’ve been busy, job interviews and all that.”

“I know! And you got one, Alex, I’m so proud. My dad, too. I think he still wants us to be a thing, with all the potential you have.”

“You have just as much potential, Bets.” He still sounded too tired.

“Me? We both know that’s not true. Angelica does, though. And don’t try to convince me otherwise, we spoke about this before. Now, tell me why you called.”

“I… I was wondering if you wanted to do something today. You know, catch up and all that. Are you free today?”

“Alex, you always text, and especially, never call when you want to meet up. What’s going on?”

“Let’s meet up, okay?”

 

* * *

 

“I missed you.”

Eliza said it as soon as she saw him, rushing towards him and engulfing him in her embrace. She was still soft, and she still smelled like peppermint.

“I missed you too, Bets.” He cupped the back of her head, carefully laying it on his shoulder. After a little while, she pulled away, sporting extremely high-cocked eyebrows.

“Does you wanting to meet me have anything to do with what happened between you and Ange this morning? Don’t think she didn’t tell me in detail what you did,” she said, clearly trying to mimic Angelica’s stern tone, and failing miserably. Alexander shook his head.

“Surprisingly, no. I actually just wanted to catch up this time.” He saw Eliza didn’t believe it even a little bit. So he added, “come on, I’ll buy us coffee.” And when they walked towards the nearest coffee shop, she linked his arm with hers, softly asking. “Are you okay, Alex?”  
He sighed. “I always forget how creepy it is. You can see straight through me sometimes.”

 

They chose a random Café Nero, and after they ordered they sat down on the second floor, staring at their drinks until Alex spoke.

“You won’t believe who I met the other day,” Alexander said, smugly drinking his coffee. Eliza raised an eyebrow.

“Who?”

“One of your college friends, you know, the Black Lives Matter one. John Laurens.”

Alexander watched as Eliza’s face lightened up. “John! So that’s the unknown number in the group chat. I haven’t seen him in years, god, how is he? Wait, you didn’t know him?” she stared at him incredulously as Alexander shook his head.

“Alex, you met him like, three or four times!”

“It doesn’t count when I’m drunk! Anyways, he’s doing well, I guess. He got in a fight and I picked him up with Herc and Maria, brought him to our apartment. We went out with the gang yesterday, so he already met Angie as well.” A strange glow formed in Eliza’s eyes.

“Of all people in the world, you run into John Laurens after one of his thousands of fights, in such a big city. That’s not even coincidence anymore, if you ask me,” she spoke softly.

Alexander suddenly felt very embarrassed.  
“He’s a cool guy, yeah,” he mumbled. Eliza blinked, and the glow was gone. A grin spread on her face.

“I want to see him! It’s been so long, such a shame we didn’t stay in contact after college, he was such a sweetheart.”

Alexander nodded. “He saved Maria from some creeps, almost beat up a whole group.” He was bragging now, John only beat up one guy. Eliza shook her head fondly.

“Then he hasn’t changed a day. I never told you, but there were quite a lot of times I called off our date nights because John had gotten in another fight again. My heart always broke when he showed up a bloodied mess in front of my door. But he has a heart of gold, that boy. And he speaks his mind. Kind of like you.” She was lost in thought now. Alexander laughed.

“So he was the one cockblocking me? All this time, and I didn’t even know!” he poked her arms playfully. Eliza rolled her eyes.

“The only person cockblocking you was me, and you know that,” she says, a guilty tone shimmering through. Alexander shrugged, a bit too excessive to seem casual.

“We already spoke about that, Betsey, multiple times. And I was never mad at you–” he mocked her voice –“and you know that.”

Eliza nodded, her shoulders slumped. Alexander patted her back gently and desperately thought of something else to talk about. They finished this conversation years ago, in college even, yet she still thought he hadn’t forgiven her.

“So I had a dream last night. In color.”

“No way, for the first time! What was it about?” she asked, relieved for the change of subject.

“I was at some sort of party, you know, a Lafayette-level kind of party. And everything was cool, and suddenly there was a boy, in the middle of the dance floor, and he had these crazy freckles and a weird halo, and I wanted to approach him but not in a “I’d give you a blowjob in the restroom” kind of way, not at all, it was like he was some sort of angel. It’s so ridiculously cliché, being enchanted with some stranger with freckles and a halo at a random party. Like I was fucking Jennifer Connelly finding her Bowie in _Labyrinth_.”

Eliza raised an eyebrow. “Did he start singing, too?”

He poked her again. “It’s not funny! It was so fucking strange.”

“Dreams aren’t that spiritual or mystical, Alex. There’s a pretty solid explanation why you dreamed about this,” Eliza calmly replied. Now it was Alexander’s time to raise an eyebrow.

“Explain, then.”

Eliza shifted in her chair.

“Easy. You went out last night, so you dreamed about that. Also, Lafayette was with you, so your subconscious reminded you of his parties. You just told me you recently got to know John, and John as freckles, so the boy in your dreams has something to do with you meeting him. And about the color thing: some people dream in both black and white and color, but don’t remember it when they wake up.”

“And the halo? And the fact that I didn’t dream about sex?” Alexander demanded. Eliza continued with a small shrug. “I don’t know about the halo, maybe you saw a hobo selling a bible or something yesterday. And about the sex thing: maybe you’re finally growing up, Ham.”

“I told you not to call me that,” Alexander grunted.

“Hammy the ham man,” Eliza teased, tickling his sides mercilessly. Alexander giggled, feeling giddier than he had in ages.

 

* * *

 

_From: Alexander_

15:57 I just spoke out w/ Betsey, she rlly want to see you again

15:58 like she’s v busy at the moment with work, but in a few weeks

15:58 we could like, get dinner with the three of us or something

 

_From: Unknown Number_

16:02 Hey John, this is Eliza, I have a new number! I just saw Alex and he told me you guys met, he was very enthusiastic about you, and I realized I really missed you

16:03 I was wondering if you wanted to catch up sometime! I’d love to hear about you and how you’ve been, it’s been way too long… Unfortunately, I’m very busy  
with work lately (I work with non-profits in the Graham Windham orphanage), but it would be great if we could meet up in a few weeks!! Love, Liza

 

_From: Lafayette_

16:05 So I just texted with mulligan ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

16:06 they (him&alex) are going to come over in a few days

16:06 bc I’m CRAVING cocktails

16:06 and the mojito’s at that club yesterday were DISGUSTING

16:06 really America is an abomination when it comes to cocktails

 

* * *

 

**_Four days later_ **

 

“Not as good as your houseparties, Laf, but I must say, I’m impressed.”

Alexander and Hercules were standing in John and Lafayette’s apartment, taking in the space. It was a stark contrast, with two normal people standing in that horrifically deluxe living room.

Lafayette had made it even worse by buying an Honest to God complete cocktail bar set and placing it in the middle of the room. He had been preparing drinks the entire day, buzzing around the house. It was his idea to have a movie night with cocktails, after all, so he had to make sure everything was perfect.

John was exhausted. He thought ironically that, had this moment been in college, he would’ve been going insane with nervousness about the fact that Alexander Hamilton was coming over at his place, but truthfully, he was too tired to care today. He’d had lectures in the morning and a double shift in Yorktown, since one of his colleagues had been ill, and all he wanted to do right now was curl up in a ball and sleep.

Lafayette, Alexander and Hercules clearly had different plans.

It took them exactly fifteen minutes and forty-three seconds to agree on which movie they were going to watch, and it was actually Hercules’ idea to watch it, _The Wiz_. John agreed immediately, stating it was “his mother’s favorite movie” and he “watched it his entire childhood,” while Lafayette had loudly proclaimed that even though it was a good movie, it could “never reach the same level of artistry when it came to the original version.” Alexander had just laughed, sneakily already downing one of Lafayette’s cocktails.  
The Wiz it was, then, with complaining Lafayette and all.

“Are we going out after this? Because then I’ll text Burr to ask if he wants to cover for me tomorrow,” Alexander said when they were roughly twenty minutes and two cocktails in. The four of them were sitting on the couch, even though there were enough chairs to share, and Alexander’s elbows were pressed to John’s.

“Please, god, no. I’m already falling asleep here,” John groaned. It was true: he had trouble keeping his eyes open ever since finishing his first cocktail.

“Then you can stay, I want to go out!” Lafayette exclaimed, shooting up from his seat and accidentally hitting Hercules’ stomach.

“Ouch!”

“Sorry, love.”

Hercules laughed. “I would be if I wasn’t straight, boo.” Lafayette kissed his nose.

“Spaghetti is also straight, until things get steamy.”

Hercules laughed again, patting his new friends’ hair.

“Believe me, you deserve a whole lot more than this guy here, and that says a lot.”

 

Lafayette and Alexander eventually decided to go out together when the movie was done, seeing as Hercules had to open up the next day, and John was, well, really fucking tired. They were almost at the part where Diana Ross and her friends met the Wizard when John’s eyes gave up, his body slumping down the couch.

And then he started.

Because Alexander was treading his fingers through his hair.

His eyes shot up for a moment, but nobody seemed to notice, and he decided to let them fall down again. _If I’m going to go along with this, might as well make use of the situation_ , was the first thing that popped up in his head, and he slightly leaned in to the touch. Alexander hummed, softly curling John’s locks around his finger. John drifted off as if on a cloud, still hearing voices in the background but traveling to a far off place with his mind.

“What a cutie.” Lafayette’s voice was almost too far away to process.

The last thing before he completely dozed off was Alexander’s soothing voice, feeling the vibrations of his vocal chords against his ears.

“I know, right.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A chapter that actually ends nice???? In my fic??!!!! Impossible. Anyways, thank you so much for all your sweet reviews!  
> Thank you for reading! If there are any grammatical and/or typing errors, let me know! And I always love hearing what you think abt this story!


	5. The Challenge: Demand Satisfaction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Alexander barely followed his friends' banter. He was determined to crack the code, determined to discover John Laurens' motives. This was a challenge, and he was far from satisfied with his answers so far. 
> 
> John cared at moments no one expected him to, and didn’t care when everyone thought he would. 
> 
> Somehow, that made the whole story about being a stereotype irrelevant, yet Alexander couldn’t lay his finger on why that was exactly."

As John would quickly find out, Alexander was a very touchy person. Being a new part of his inner circle, as Alexander called it once when he was very, _very_ drunk, John had to deal with that.

For example: that movie night, when Lafayette and Alexander had returned to the apartment, they'd fallen asleep together a tangled mess on Lafayette’s bed, and John had woken them up the next morning, only to have them find out Alexander’s hand had been laying casually on Lafayette’s ass the entire night. Lafayette had just laughed and shrugged it off, claiming it was one of Alexander’s "many unique traits."

Or when they visited Hercules’ teashop a few days after their movie marathon, and Peggy had been crying because she blew another audition; Alexander had put his arms around her waist and neck, comforting her with his caresses. Peggy had stifled a shaky laugh, pushing him away with a choked, “don’t think you can win me over like you did with my sisters!”

John found it strangely endearing, but mostly very confusing.

Of course, all this meant they grew closer, which they did. Also, Lafayette and Alexander had rekindled their friendship like no time had passed whatsoever, and they formed such an intimidatingly hot duo that John sometimes wondered if the reason they left Paris was because the city simply couldn’t handle them.

Eliza and John texted a lot, both too busy to meet up, and Eliza claimed she wanted to have a proper reunion. John quickly realized how much he’d missed her, and he loved reading her stories about the orphanage she worked at: somehow the job fitted her so perfectly, John couldn’t imagine her doing anything else. He avoided her questions about his study as much as possible, but of course, he had to talk about that sometimes as well. He told her a lot about the paintings he made last year, and sent her as many pictures as he could.

He tried drawing, to no avail. Frustration was slowly boiling inside of him, and he was uncertain where it so suddenly came from.

 

* * *

 

John and Lafayette’s balcony was one of the only things in their apartment that wasn’t absurdly luxurious; they had the only studio in the building without an official one, and theirs consisted of only a small fire escape, without a barrier protecting them from the 14-floor drop.

It was John’s favorite place in the world. He never cared for comfort, and the view was beautiful, especially around sunset.

Lafayette found him on this "balcony" of theirs, a short week after their movie marathon, the sun almost down. He immediately knew something was off.

“What happened? You haven’t been stoned in months, John,” he broke the silence softly, sitting down next to his roommate on the iron railing. John, who was almost finished with his joint, took his last, long drag before throwing it down the building, watching as it fell into the mass of people walking beneath them on the concrete. He sighed.

“My dad called this afternoon.”

Lafayette started caressing his back. “What did he say? Did you–”

“No, he doesn’t know. God, no.” John sighed again, louder this time. 

“He asked me to come to the Benefit Ball.” His head was turning cloudy now, and he felt as if he was dreaming. Perfect.

“The Ball? But John, that’s not so bad, is it? I was invited as well, but I’m in Paris then,” Lafayette replied, still dragging his hand over John’s back. John leaned his head against the window behind them. It was very cold, as if little daggers tried to invade his skin.

“I know, I know. Really cool party, and all that shit.”

“It’s like the Met Gala for politicians!”

John closed his eyes.

“That’s the problem, Laf. It’s not my place.” He took a deep breath.

“And the reason why he invited me is very unclear, but I’m worried about my sister. He always takes her to these things, since my other siblings are too young and I’m, well, me. But he didn’t mention her coming along at all.”

Lafayette frowned. “Have you tried contacting her?”

John shook his head. “What would I say to her? _“Hey, this is John, the brother who avoids coming to thanksgiving every year, who tries to distance himself from your family as much as possible, I was wondering if you’re okay?”_ ”

“John, you’re making this harder than it is.”

“Look, I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t want to think about it. Why do you think I was smoking?”

Lafayette’s frown deepened. “I’m sorry, John.”

“It’s okay.”

Lafayette suddenly perked up, his eyes glimmering. He took his hand away from John’s back, and waved it in the air excitedly.

“I almost forgot, I’ve got good news! We’re going to Peggy’s tonight! It’s her birthday.”

John raised an eyebrow. “She’s celebrating it today?” he’d already send her a message on Facebook this morning, but he didn’t get the memo she was throwing a party.

“I visited Hercules' this afternoon, and she was working, _on her birthday_ , the poor girl, so we talked for a bit, and she told me she was throwing this thing tonight, and that we could totally come.”

John took a few seconds to process Lafayette’s story, his mind working significantly slower. He felt calm, content. “Sure, sounds fun. We can give her those flowers the Ball organizers sent me.”

 

* * *

 

“All I’m saying is, we can’t find a way to express ourselves as a generation when nothing shocks us any– oh, hi! John! Laf!”

Alexander was talking to a small girl with frizzy, pink hair, a beer loosely in his hand. Her name was Sally, and he’d only fucked her once, so it wasn’t awkward to talk to her, in comparison to an embarrassingly big amount of other people in the room.

Still, he was eternally grateful to see John and Laf, since this party was pretty boring so far–Hercules was coming later, Eliza had work (again, and she had shamefully engulfed her little sister in gifts as an apology), Angelica was in London for business (skillfully ignoring Alexander), and Aaron and Madison were jerks, and Alexander refused to talk to them.

All in all, he felt sorry for Peggy, but luckily (for the both of them), the party started to fill out as the evening progressed, a peak being John and Laf.

They both looked gorgeous. So Alexander told them.

“You both look like models,” he gasped, already half-drunk. John laughed lazily, and Lafayette leaned in to kiss his cheek, a traditional greeting between the two of them.

Alexander turned to John. Something was… off about him? He was holding a bouquet of purple flowers, which strangely made his hazel eyes stand out.

That is, normally hazel– right now, very _very_ red.

Lafayette followed his gaze, and chuckled. “Don’t mind John, he’s stoned.”

_Alright._

“Why, you keep falling into the perfect rich boy stereotype, my dear Laurens,” Alexander laughed, clapping John on the back. John winced dramatically, yet somehow leaned into the touch at the same time.

“Fuck you, Hamilton.”

“It’s adorable.”

John rolled his eyes as he let Lafayette take his hand and lead him to Peggy, who was very casually wearing a dishcloth in her hair. Alexander subtly followed them. (As in, knocked over two cans of beer laying on the floor in the progress).

“Pegs, what is that atrocity in your hair?” Lafayette gasped. Peggy gave him a small peck on the cheek.

“Thanks for coming! So nice to have you here _on my birthday._ ”

John’s mind –somehow still working even though he had no idea what she just said– ordered him to step forward, and he enveloped Peggy in a tight hug, the flowers awkwardly clamped behind her back.

“Happy birthday, Pegs. I don’t know you for that long, but I think you’re amazing, and your hair is cool, and you smell nice.”

Peggy was laughing now, patting his back affectionately.

“It blows Eliza isn’t here, bud. You guys could’ve hugged it out for hours, but sadly I’m not into all that stuff.” She winked, and graciously accepted the flowers.

“They’re gorgeous, thanks!”

“No, but seriously, Pegs, a dishcloth? I mean, bandana’s are already bad enough, but a literal old dishcloth?!” Lafayette exclaimed after her, but she was already on her way to the kitchen to put the flowers in some water.  
Alexander, who had been watching them silently (for the first time in his life), stepped forward to take part in the conversation. Somehow, the fact that John was stoned made him very uncomfortable.

“John, why are you stoned?” Alexander asked, avoiding the boy’s eyes.

John _giggled_ in response, leaning against Lafayette for support.

“Why not? My dad sucks, but I can’t complain about that to you, because then you’ll complain that I’m being a stereotype.”

Another fit of giggles followed. “Laf, why isn’t anyone dancing? I want to dance. Do you think Peggy has a Wii? Oh my God. We could play Just Dance, I’d totally beat the shit out of the pink haired chick over there,” he rambled on. Lafayette laughed.

“Give me a few beers first, mon ami.”

“Peggy has a Wii, and she has Just Dance 2,” Alexander quickly provided, trying to keep up with his two friends walking towards the minibar. John’s turned around, and his gaze traveled through the room, before it eventually landed on Alexander.

“Cool.”

 

* * *

 

“So, you were both stoner kids in high school?”

“Alexander, nobody calls it that. But yeah, we smoked in high school.”

Peggy, John, Hercules, Lafayette, Alexander and three other people were sitting on Peggy’s balcony. In order to save space, Peggy had chosen John’s lap as a new chair, and Lafayette was sitting–very inappropriately–on Hercules’ lap, who was either oblivious to Lafayette’s advances, or just didn’t care. Alexander was the only one standing, leaning against the railing and shaking from the cold.

John bounced Peggy on his knees every now and then, mumbling an accompanying lullaby and making her laugh uncontrollably. He started to wonder why he had chosen the middle Schuyler as his best friend in college, instead of the youngest, when he realized,

“Peggy, you never went to college with us, right?”

“Gee, so quick-witted,” Peggy chuckled, and leaned backwards, fumbling with her hands in the pockets of John’s coat.

“It’s so cold,” Alexander said, at the same time Peggy exclaimed,

_“John! You didn’t tell me you saved me a nugget!”_

Alexander’s eyes widened. _“You brought some with you?”_ he hissed towards John, incredulously. John, who was sobering up from the cold, and finally able to follow the conversation properly, shrugged carelessly.

“I still had some left, so why not?”

Lafayette barked out a laugh as Peggy set to complete her so-called “divine task” to get them all as “high as Benjamin Franklin’s kite,” to which Hercules responded she was the “biggest hipster nerd in all of NYC,” to which she responded she was “going to resign from work.”

Alexander barely followed his friends’ banter. He was determined to crack the code, determined to discover John Laurens' motives. This was a challenge, and he was far from satisfied with his answers so far.

John cared at moments no one expected him to, and didn’t care when everyone thought he would.

Somehow, that made the whole story about being a stereotype irrelevant, yet Alexander couldn’t lay his finger on why that was exactly. He was hurt more at John’s response from earlier than he thought he would be. _He doesn’t trust you. He doesn’t like you._

Peggy and John rolled a joint like a well-oiled machine, and if Alexander didn’t know Peggy was asexual, he was pretty sure alarm bells would’ve gotten off in his head. But the only discomfort he felt right now was an extreme nervousness at the scene played out in front of him. Peggy and John shared a few drags, blowing their smoke in each other’s mouth like they’ve been fucking casually for three years, and passed the joint over to Lafayette. After Hercules also took a polite, small drag, he offered it to Alexander, who stared it like it was some exotic bird. John raised an eyebrow.

“Have you smoked before?” he asked, watching Alexander hesitantly bring the joint to his lips. Lafayette responded with a sudden, loud laugh.

“I almost forgot! He always declined when we were in Paris!”

At the same moment, Alexander took a drag, and coughed like a teenager immediately afterwards.

John and Peggy were almost _crying_ with laughter.

It didn’t just stop, either. No, he kept on coughing for two minutes straight, tears coming out of his eyes for very different reasons.

John, a bit hazy, decided to have mercy on him after a while.

“It’s okay, you know. “Don’t do drugs,” and all that stuff,” he said, which made Peggy burst into another fit of giggles. Alexander frowned, and John clapped on Peggy’s thighs, unceremoniously shooing her off his lap. He cramped himself next to Alexander, arms pressed together due to the small space.

“Let me teach you,” he said kindly, ignoring his friend’s laughter in the background now, and carefully took the joint from Alexander.

“You see, you have to inhale like a cigarette, but a bit longer and deeper. Once you feel it burning, you know it’s just right. Then you take it from your lips, but keep inhaling, with your lips tutted together, like this–”

John took a long drag, and Alexander gazed at his lips in awe as he inhaled the smoke without a single cough. He felt like a high-schooler all over again, and kept watching as John took another drag, throwing his head back and making small rings of smoke, with his lips moving like a blowfish. It was strangely comforting to look at. Alexander took a deep breath.

“Let me try again.”

 

* * *

 

“Pegs, we should still totally play Just Dance right now.”

“I’m not going to fucking get from the couch for that stupid ass Wii, Laurens, thank you very much.”

“Please.”

“No.”

“…Please.”

 

* * *

John and Peggy were in the middle of their third dancebattle–dancing to that one song with Robbie Williams and Nicole Kidman–when they found out they both used to take dance classes.

“You know, I should’ve told you in advance, but the reason I’m kicking your ass is because I used to take these stupid lessons,” Peggy announced in the middle of the song. Almost the entire room was watching them, too afraid to ask one of them for a round. John let out a surprised noise.

“Excuse you, I used to take classes for _three years_ , and I’m totally kicking _your_ ass, Schuyler,” John shouted, gaining a perfect score on a special move. Peggy grunted.

“ _Dance classes?_ My god, Laurens! Don’t let your father hear that! This is like _Billy Eliott_ all over again,” she retorted, "accidentally" hitting his stomach with her remote during a spin.

“My dad actually forced me to take them, because I was utter garbage at that debutante shit,” John laughed, ignoring the whole room eavesdropping on them right now. He realized with a pang in his chest that he was being very stereotypical again, according to Alexander Hamilton standards. He wondered what Alexander was thinking right now, not noticing the boy staring at him in awe from the couch.

The song stopped, and Peggy had won by a hair.

“Ha! In your face!” she shouted, throwing her hands up in victory.

And then eyes lighted up. An idea.

“Let’s dance!”

 

* * *

 

Alexander didn’t think his night would’ve been this damaging for his confidence, yet here he was anyways. He didn’t really know where it came from, but he was pretty sure John Laurens had something to do with it.

Alexander was a fairly good dancer. He got attention when he went out, he could seduce girls and boys with it, and he felt invincible when he danced.

That was, until he saw John Laurens dance with Peggy. Their dance was a genre on its own, a new spin on the debutante dances they both dreaded so much when they were younger. The entire room was watching them, because they were _so good_ , and _so coordinated_ , and the strange alarm bells Alexander managed to stop on the balcony were going on in his head right now at full volume. He stared at them for the duration of three songs, which Hercules had picked out ceremoniously.

After that, Peggy broke away with a breathy laugh, using her weird dishcloth to wipe the sweat off her forehead.

“I’m going to get a drink, Laurens, I’m exhausted. Wanna get strunk too?” she asked. John laughed.

“Strunk? No thanks, I’d rather get _droned._ ”

Peggy fell forwards, crying with laughter. Hercules managed to grab her shoulder just in time, and grumbly dragged her towards the kitchen, incoherently mumbling something about a "salary cut."

And John was standing alone in the middle of the room.

And Alexander was still staring at him, fixated on the small locks of hair that were falling out of his low ponytail. The same hair he had so carelessly caressed a few days ago. He wanted to end this discomfort. Right now.

_In order to end your fear, you have to look it straight in the eyes._

So took the challenge, and he stood up, grabbed John by the arm, stared directly in his ridiculous hazel eyes, ignored his freckles, _like stars—_

 

“Let’s dance.”

 

And so they did. 

 

* * *

 

“Alex, thank you so much for stopping by, I know you’re busy, I'm so sorry.”

Alexander was waiting patiently in the hall of the Graham Windham orphanage, a loving smile creeping up on his face as soon as he heard Eliza’s voice. He turned around to give her a quick hug, and let her lead him towards a quiet coffee room.

“No problem, Bets. I was worried, though. You sounded distressed on the phone.”

“I know, I kinda am, too.” Eliza took a deep breath as they sat down in two old, leather chairs, holding drinks from the gross coffee machine.

“My dad… it’s not like he did it on purpose, but… the press was bothering him again, _as always,_ and he didn’t mean it but he said it anyways and I don’t know what to do now and–“

“Hey, slow down, Bets, I can’t follow you,” Alexander interrupted her, draping his arm over her shoulder and treading his fingers through her soft, ink black hair. There were tears in Eliza’s eyes.

“I’m so, so sorry Alex. I know we spoke about this before, and I still feel so guilty about me using you, but they… they asked him… and I don’t know who else to ask…”

“Ask you what? What happened to your father?”

Eliza closed her eyes, took another deep breath.

“The press, because it was the anniversary of dad's former talk show, you know, kept asking him questions. It started off with questions about his job in the senate, and then it was about his children. About how Peggy’s a lazy waitress, and Angelica’s an old sock who can’t keep a solid relationship. So he told them I had been in a healthy relationship for over three years during college, because I’m too much of a coward to tell him the real story…”

“And now?”

“Well, they asked him about the Benefit Ball…”

“And I’m going to come with you.”

“...Yes."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun dunn duuuunnn...
> 
> This chapter originally didn't even exist, but it's one of my favorites so far.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! I'm still astounded by how well my story is being received so far<3 if you have any questions, notes (e.g. on grammar), or just want to say hi, feel free to leave a comment!


	6. A Winter's Ball

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "They continued this routine for about half an hour, with Alexander blowing everyone away with his intellect, and Eliza winning them over with her charms and loving character. They both knew it without speaking it out loud: it was as if they were made for each other. He felt at bliss. 
> 
> And then he turned around, towards the flashing lights, towards the entrance. He saw two people walking in; one’s hand protectively on the younger’s shoulder. He recognized one of them. 
> 
> And then his heart stopped."

“You know, I had a weird dream again last night.”

Alexander was standing in front of the full-body mirror in Eliza’s apartment, a comfortable, cozy place in New York’s city center. He shouted through the room at the same time Eliza walked in, hair wrapped in a towel.

“Really? What was it about this time?” she asked. She was half-dressed, another towel covering up her middle and only wearing a lace bra on top. Alexander tried very hard to look away.

“It had something to do with Nevis, and someone was singing, and it was in color again. But I kinda forgot the actual story,” he replies, expertly tying his tie around his neck.

The suit he was wearing was simple and fairly cheap, but he had to admit it: he looked good tonight. Meanwhile, Eliza was walking through the room, dressing quickly. Alexander knew events like these always made her feel a little bit nervous: she was never one to be interested in looks only, yet there was always pressure for her and her sisters to look impeccable.

“Weird. It’s cool, though, you finally get to experience what it’s like to be normal,” she teased, walking up to him to give him a small peck on his cheek. Alexander smiled.

“Show me your dress.”

Eliza put her dress on over her head, looking ridiculous and cute with her arms thrown up and her face covered in mint-green satin. After she finished, she twirled, and Alexander whistled obnoxiously.

“Damn, girl!”

Eliza winked, letting out a wicked laugh. She joined him in front of the mirror, linking their hands and laying her head on his shoulders.

They looked ethereal together.

“Thank you, for joining me. I mean it. And I’m sor—“

“Don’t apologize on me, Schuyler. We talked about this, you’re not using me if I agree to help you, and we also spoke about college before, so don’t you dare still feel guilty about that,” Alexander interrupted, rambling on in a way he knew always convinced her, “and besides, I actually really wanted to go to this ball. Washington’s taking his flight to Paris tonight, so I’ll be the perfect representative for his firm, it’ll be the opportunity to network.”

“You actually already wanted to go?” Eliza laughed, and Alexander’s cheeks colored a light red.

“Damn, who’s the snob now,” she smirked. Alexander tugged her hair softly, making her yelp.

“Anyways, I think we look great. It’ll be like old times tonight,” he said, kissing her crown. Eliza smiled sadly.

“Yes, pretending to be madly in love, just like old times.”

“Ha, yes. Pretending.”

 

* * *

 

John was staring at the suit hanging on his bedroom door, perfectly new and dark blue, from some obnoxious brand. His father had sent it to him two days ago, and it was hanging on his door since then.

Meanwhile, Lafayette was walking in and out of his room, frantically searching for things to pack. John decided to ignore the suit for now, turning away from the door and rolling his eyes at his friend.

“Laf, for fucks sake, chill. You’ve packed everything this morning, you don’t have to bring your entire apartment for a business trip, and you’ve been in Paris before, you know where to buy stuff if you forgot it,” he shouted after his roommate as he ran towards the living to look for… for what, exactly?

“This is my first trip with Washington! I can’t embarrass myself!” he shouted back. John rolled his eyes again, letting himself fall back on the mattress.

“Washington’s not going to hate you if you forget your toothbrush, Laf.”

“Oh, fuck! My toothbrush!”

John looked at the suit again. It had patterns. What was his father thinking? He sighed. Walked towards the suit. Put it off the hanger.

“John, I’m leaving in twenty minutes, hurry the fuck up so I can judge your look!”

 

* * *

 

The MoMa was already crowded when they arrived, groups of journalists and photographers swirling around them like insects. Alexander felt Eliza tremble slightly against his side, and pressed her even closer. A familiar figure was waiting for them in front of the entrance, skillfully ignoring the probing questions journalists shouted at him.

“Alexander, nice to see you again. It’s been way too long. I want to hear everything about Paris, my boy.”

Philip Schuyler was one of the kindest people Alexander had ever met; yet he was always somewhat intimidated by the man. Not that he was insincere, no, he was the sweetest family man in the media right now, and for someone that successful he always stayed humble.

In every way Angelica protected her sisters, Alexander recognized her father, in his loving glances towards his daughters, and his notorious efforts to keep his daughters out of the press as much as possible.

“Nice to see you again too, sir. And I’ll be honored to tell you everything, if it were not such a wonderful night to enjoy the present,” Alexander grinned widely, shaking Mr. Schuyler’s hand firmly as the photographers snapped picture after picture, the light blinding him.

 _Tonight is not a night to avoid the press_ , Alexander thought. And he knew Eliza thought it too, by the way she firmly grabbed his arm and pressed her side into his hips as close as possible. He gently tucked a lock of hair out of her face before kissing her cheek. They’d win the most adorable photo of tonight, for sure. And Alexander knew the rule when it came to climbing to the top: every bit of attention counted. He beamed. _This was his moment to shine._

Mr. Schuyler gently escorted them inside the building.

“Have a drink, Peggy is coming after the peak hour, and Angelica is… ah, there she is, talking to John Church. I’ll go say hi to them.”

Mr. Schuyler waved them goodbye, and in that same instant, Alexander felt his stomach drop. He turned to Eliza.

“Is Angelica already back from London?”

 

* * *

 

_From: Lafayette_

19:34 everything’s going to be fine John

19:34 call me if you need me; my flight leaves at 22:00

19:35 good luck

 

_To: Lafayette_

19:37 you too, laf

19:38 wash is going to adore you

19:38 I mean, good luck with business and all ;) you make one mean real estate agent

 

_From: Lafayette_

19:40 _va te foutre_ *kissyface emoji*

19:41 but I mean it okay

19:41 don’t let the guy get into your head

 

* * *

 

“It is good to see you after such a long time, Jack. And you look good, too. I am proud of you.”

Henry Laurens, waiting for him in front of his apartment, clapped John on the back, an elegant limousine behind him. The chauffeur opened the door. John curtly nodded a “hello” to him.

“Nice to see you too, father,” John remarked stiffly, joining the elder in the vehicle. He’d forgotten what is felt like to sit in a limousine, and only now he realized he wished he wouldn’t have to remember.

“Can you put on the heater?” he asked the driver after a short silence.

“It’s already on, Jack. Are you cold?” his father replied, seemingly concerned. John shrugged.

“So, father, to what do I have the honor of accompanying you? I thought that was Martha’s thing.”

Henry Laurens frowned, his famous crease appearing between his brows.

“Martha and I had a… disagreement. It is not important, she is doing fine. But we did agree that it was better to take a little break from each other. She is taking care of your siblings right now. Already such a grown woman.”

John gritted his teeth, glancing sideways to his father. The man hadn’t changed a bit, even though he saw him approximately a year ago (since he successfully avoided Thanksgiving this year.)

He still wore that permanent frown between his eyebrows, and those eyelids were still hanging slightly over his eyes. _Yep._

The limousine turned around the corner, revealing a buzzing MoMA. Right before they stopped, Henry Laurens turned to John.

“Jack, I know you won’t believe me when I tell you this, but I—we, your family, we really miss you. Your siblings miss their older brother, and I miss my eldest son. I am very happy you decided to come with me today. Let’s keep it nice.”

 

* * *

 

“You didn’t tell me your sister would be back from London so soon,” Alexander hissed to Eliza, grabbing her by the arm firmly.

“I didn’t know! She said she was coming back in two weeks, must’ve taken an early flight I guess. Oh god, this is bad.”

“I can’t talk to her right now, with the media and all,” Alexander whispered. Eliza nodded, looking around the room with a deep frown.

“We’ll stay distracted. Look over there, it’s Henry Knox, you know, Secretary of War? My father knows him from his time in the army, I can introduce you to him.”

“I love you, Bets,” Alexander grinned, ignoring Eliza rolling her eyes.

“I know, I know. Let’s go, before dad comes back with Ange.”

They walked towards a pompous man with dark, slicked back hair and a soft, serious face. Alexander smiled politely: he already knew he could have this man in his pocket within seconds. He introduced himself, giving Mr. Knox a firm handshake. Eliza still clung to his arm, laughing along with their conversation and filling in small commentary, even though their subjects were far from her points of interest.

Alexander felt like he belonged.

They continued this routine for about half an hour, with Alexander blowing everyone away with his intellect, and Eliza winning them over with her charms and loving character. They both knew it without speaking it out loud: it was as if they were made for each other. Alexander even managed to dodge Angelica’s death-glare from across the room for now. He felt at bliss.

And then he turned around, towards the flashing lights, towards the entrance. He saw two people walking in; one’s hand protectively on the younger’s shoulder. He recognized one of them.

 

And then his heart stopped.

 

* * *

 

John felt like dying, his father introducing him to Important People (a highlight being the _wonderful_ Mr. Jefferson) and he drinking as much champagne as possible. The real hit, though, fell about half an hour after arriving. They were standing in one of the exhibition rooms of the MoMa, pretending to look at the collection. His father glanced around, stopped when he saw a familiar face.

“Ah, there’s Schuyler, the liberal.”

Henry Laurens gritted his teeth, took a deep breath, and suddenly put up his political-smile.

“You were friends with his daughter in college right, Jack? Let’s greet him. It is the proper thing to do.”

John felt his stomach churn at his father’s fake tone.

“Why should I introduce myself to the father of a girl I haven’t seen in years?” he recoiled as calmly as possible, looking at his father’s knuckles, clenched in a fist, turning whiter and whiter every second. He shivered, the sight all too familiar.

“Jack, let’s stay kind. Do not speak with such a hateful tone,” John’s father replied calmly. His glare felt like ice.

John obeyed.

Henry Laurens guided his son towards Philip Schuyler–who was, as a twist of fate, standing alone in the room, looking at an enormous painting–in silence, a heavy hand resting on John’s shoulder. He gently tapped Schuyler’s back, making the man turn around.

“Philip, good to see you here. I want you to meet my son, John Laurens,” his father greeted, pushing John forwards and letting his hand fall down. John set up his polite smile.

“Mister Schuyler, nice to meet you. I was a friend of your daughter Eliza in college,” he introduced himself to the man in front of him, the smile still plastered on his face as they shook hands. He could see Eliza’s facial characteristics back in the man’s laughter lines, something that oddly comforted him. Philip Schuyler’s face lighted up.

“Nice to meet you, John! You don’t look at all like how I imagined you to be,” yeah, ‘cause I’m not the white piece of trash my father is, John thought, “What a nice fellow, Henry. Have you seen Eliza already?” Schuyler asked. John’s eyes widened, a genuine smile creeping up on his face.

“Eliza’s here?” he asked, hopefully. Philip Schuyler nodded.

“Yes, and her boyfriend too! Wonderful boy, if you ask me. And so intelligent!”

_Boyfriend?_

“Well, John here is studying medicine at Columbia the moment, so you can understand that I am also a very proud man. How is your eldest daughter doing? I heard she applied for an internship in London,” Henry Laurens piped in, still wearing his fake smile. John saw the corners of his mouth starting to quiver, and wondered if it hurt to smile for that long. His father’s face seemed disproportioned, like it wasn’t made to smile.

“Angelica? Oh, that girl keeps amazing me. Sometimes her wit scares me. That girl will be a president someday. She’s somewhere around here, too. And medicine, John! Interesting choice. Not following in your father’s footsteps, then?”

His father replied before John could.

“John is more interested in the direct help of people in need. But he did get an offer for pre-law at Yale last year. I always tell him: do what you love, but remember it’s never too late to change your mind!” Henry Laurens replied, coughing up the fakest laugh John had ever heard in his life.

“Too bad I’m too in love with New York City to ever leave,” John quickly added. Philip Schuyler beamed. John realized Peggy’s nose scrunched up the exact same way when she laughed.

“Well, my boy. You’re not the only one. But come with me, both of you, to see Eliza.”

John followed Philip Schuyler through the room, his father’s reprimanding hand returning on his shoulder. He looked over to his father; shocked to see he was smiling.

“You are doing just fine, Jack,” his father whispered. John replied with a shaky laugh.

And then his stomach dropped.

In front of John was Eliza, radiant as ever.

The only problem was: so was Alexander.

 

_Boyfriend._

 

_No, no that couldn’t be, that’s impossible._

“Eliza, Alexander, I take it you both know John Laurens from college. This is John’s father, Henry Laurens, an esteemed colleague of mine.”

John looked at Eliza, whose eyes were widened, and then at Alexander, who was avoiding his gaze persistently, a smile creeping up on his face. If Alexander was panicked at the situation playing out in front of them, John didn’t see it. He was stepping forward within a split second, a wide grin on his face. He shook Henry Laurens’ hand.

“Nice to meet you, sir. I’m Alexander Hamilton, currently working as a junior attorney at Washington & Associates. And this is my wonderful girlfriend, Elizabeth Schuyler,” he said confidently, gesturing towards Eliza with his free hand. Eliza smiled politely at Henry Laurens and also shook his hand, after Alexander stepped back.

“Nice to finally meet you, sir, after all these years of knowing John. He is a very kind boy, you must feel lucky,” she said, not a single trace of venom in her voice. Henry Laurens smiled back, yet the warmth never met his eyes.

“I certainly am, young lady. Your father should count himself lucky too: such a lovely sight to behold, and so polite! A role model for every woman.”

John winced: he knew about the sexism in the legal world the Schuyler sisters had to go through, and he took this as his cue to step in before things got worse.

“Alexander, Eliza, nice to see you again,” he said quickly. Eliza smiled warmly, immediately stepping forward to hug him.

“It’s been way too long, John. Too bad we couldn’t have a proper reunion, but it’s lovely to see you here.”

John squeezed her arm quickly before turning to Alexander, offering his hand to greet him. Alexander took it with sweaty hand.

“You look good, John. Nice to see you again,” Alexander nodded, his confident smile faltering for a second as a clear evidence of uneasiness spread across his face. Their hands were still collided.

Alexander’s mask had fallen, and John had seen it.

Henry Laurens laughed his fake laugh again, his heavy hand returning on John’s shoulder. John let Alexander’s hand go quickly, turning to his father.

He suddenly felt the urge to throw up. His father kept talking to Alexander, exchanging pleasantries. A strange, hostile tension was growing between them after every remark. John didn’t take in any words. Alexander kept avoiding his gaze, which turned more and more resentful with every second.

It seemed to take ages, and John thanked the gods up above when Aaron Burr walked up to them.

“Can I borrow Alexander for a moment? I have to talk to him, it’s work related,” he asked after politely introducing himself to the group.

Henry Laurens nodded almost too eagerly, and took his chance to say goodbye to the Schuyler’s as well, laying his hand on John’s shoulder again as he led his son towards another exhibition hall. Suddenly, John stopped walking.

“Excuse me for a moment, father,” he said, turning around before his father could ask a question.

John thought about going to restroom for a split second, but decided he’d used enough situations for that excuse. He walked and walked until he reached the balcony, and leaned on it, looking up at the sky above him, one single star visible in the city night. He was so sick and tired of running away, tired of hiding. He was a fighter, not a fleer.

A plane flew by. John thought about Lafayette, so many miles above him, and he suddenly felt incredibly alone.

 

* * *

 

How it had happened was a blur to Alexander, but one second he was trying to make conversation with Aaron Burr, the other he was dragged in an empty hallway, before being slammed against the wall with an aggressive force.

_“Are you out of your goddamn fucking mind, you utter piece of shit?”_

Angelica’s face was mere inches from Alexander’s, her spit hitting his face like daggers. Alexander suppressed the urge to comment on their current position, with his body pinned against the wall, slightly intimidated by Angelica’s expression, all gritted teeth and pure anger.

“I take it you’re talking about me and Eliza?” he tried to answer as disinterested as possible, gasping as she grabbed his arms tighter, making it hard for him to breathe normally.

“Not only that, but you and John. What was your idea of this evening, Alex? Attract as many journalists? Creating as much gossip headlines for our family as possible? Do you know how much our father sacrifices for us to have a normal life? And you throw it all in the wind, “dating” Eliza again, while trying to lick Henry Laurens' ass, my father’s _political enemy_?”

“Excuse you, Angelica, but your precious father actually took John to us to see him, and Eliza was the one who asked me to join her,” Alexander spat back immediately. He felt a chill rising up his spine: _this was what they were good at._

He almost enjoyed how quickly Angelica recoiled.

“And why would you even agree to do such a stupid thing? We both know this will only cause more commotion, with you trying so hard to get attention. But I saw the way you look at John, the way you spoke to the Laurenses. You think this is a stupid game, right Hamilton? It’s all so pretty and glamorous, huh? This is my family’s _life_ , and you’re ruining it. Your façade is breaking, you’re not strong enough, ” she hissed. Alexander winced.

“Oh, so because your sister _begs_ me to help her, _I’m_ the one who’s causing the commotion? _It was her fucking idea!_ And yes, this is a game for me, of course it is! I fucking know I’m not an entitled rich aristocrat, but at least I’m doing everything I can to pursue my dreams, and you should too, if you even remotely care for your _fucking_ career.”

Angelica pushed him harder towards the wall, hissing almost incoherently.

“How could you do this to me?”

Alexander’s eyes widened, his mouth snapping shut for two terrifyingly quiet seconds.

And then he laughed hollowly.

“This isn’t about Eliza or John at all, isn’t it, my dear Angie? This is all about you and me.”

Angelica froze, and Alexander deftly got away from her grip.

“You’re an emotionless, apathetic human being, Alexander Hamilton, and you deserve to be alone,” she blankly replied. Alexander frowned, folding his arms, covering up the pang in his chest.

“Because I don’t want to date you? We spoke about this, Angelica. I love you. But you’re my best friend, and you know me. _I. Don’t. Do. Relationships._ And about tonight: I love Eliza more than anything in this life, and if doing this for her makes her happy, I’d choose her happiness over mine.”

 

* * *

 

“Hey, I’ve looked everywhere for you.”

John jumped when he heard Eliza’s voice, ringing behind him like a small bell. The balcony was mostly empty, safe for a few people smoking. John smiled weakly at his old friend, who was now walking up to him.

“What’s up, Eliza? Where’s Alexander?” John asked as Eliza stood beside him, her shoulders softly pressed into his. Somehow it reminded him of Peggy’s party, smoking with Alexander on that cramped balcony. He winced.

“Alexander went home early, he didn’t feel too well,” Eliza replied, looking at her thumbs. They fell silent, both not knowing what to say. John wanted to scream at her, telling her he’s lying, Alexander’s lying, he’s—

“John, I saw the way you looked back there, when we were talking with your father. I don’t know what was wrong, but I have a feeling it has something to do with Alexander.”

“Yeah, I have! He’s using you, Eliza, he gave me this enormous lecture once about how “domestic life was a bore” and he went on to fuck your sister the same night, and I don’t want you to get hurt again, I really don’t!” John exclaimed, gesturing wildly with his hand. Eliza closed her eyes, trembling slightly. The sight sobered John up, and he put a reassuring hand around her shoulders.

“I’m so sorry, Eliza,” he whispered. Eliza shook her head.

“John, you don’t understand. Alexander did nothing wrong, this is my fault. I want to explain, but it’s so hard.” Her voice was shaking, and John pulled her tighter to her.

“It’s okay, it’s not your fault,” he murmured, and Eliza shook her head again. She bit her lip.

“Okay, I’m going to tell you, and you can hate me, but please, please don’t make a scene here, I can’t embarrass myself here after everything that happened and everything I’ve been through, I can’t disappoint my father–"

“’Liza, you’re rambling. It’s okay, you can tell me. I promise I won’t make a scene,” John interrupted, drawing circles on her arm with his index finger. Eliza shivered, and took a deep breath. And then she spoke.

 

“Alexander and I, we never dated, not… genuinely.”

John’s eyes widened, his heart skipping at least five beats. He felt dizzy.

“I’m sorry, what?”

Eliza still had her eyes closed, face in a painful expression.

“John, I’m gay.”

 

* * *

 

_From: Maria_

22:57 hey Alex

22:58 I know you’re mad at me, but I just wanted to say I’m really sorry about what happened

22:58 are you free tonight? You can come over if you want

22:59 I want to make things right again

23:00 I really miss you

 

_From: Pegs_

23:15 Aleeeeeeex come to Yorktown we’re having this sick afterparty

23:16 John’s giving everyone free boozeeee

23:16 oh and he also says he’s not mad at you anymore

23:17 my lizard finally came out to him!!!!!!!!! So proud!!!!!!

 

23:40 anyways nice of yuo to compltely ignor me

 

23:41 we re hitting the gaybar l88er if u wanna joinnnn?

 

00:20 fcku u hamilton

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!


	7. Take A Break

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "“Wait, are you gay too?” Alexander shouted, and Eliza let out a loud laugh.
> 
> “I know, right! If we knew this in college we could’ve visited gay bars all the time, instead of those lame clubs you dragged me to!” she exclaimed, and turned to John, “But good thing you didn’t take him home John, I don’t think me and Peggy could’ve handled the…sounds,” she grinned, and John’s face got redder. 
> 
> Alexander looked at John, his mouth hanging open. He shook his head in an attempt to get his act together.
> 
>  _Well, this was certainly unexpected._ "

“Want a cig? You deserve it, damn.”

Maria was already smoking next to Alexander when he woke up, streams of sunlight illuminating her breasts, her bared legs tangled in white sheets. Alexander nodded, lighting a cigarette and letting his head fall back in his pillow.

“You were not so bad yourself, babe,” he responded hoarsely, taking a long drag.

“Glad we got to put all that shit behind us,” Maria murmured absently, sitting up straight and grabbing her makeup bag from her nightstand. Alexander nodded, grasping for his pants to get his phone. His battery was almost dead, and he had a shit ton of messages. 

“Oh shit, I think I just lost all my friends,” he laughed, and Maria raised an eyebrow.

“You better respond then.”

 

* * *

 

_From: Eliza_

00:50 hey alex peggy is pretty mad at you

00:51 but she’s also p drunk

00:51 I came out to john!!!! He’s not mad at you (if you thought he was)

 

_From: John_

03:03 haayey alex pegs tthks u r mad at her

03:04 nd she say s u think im mad @ uu

03:05 itsokaaaaythoooo

03:06 y r uu ignoring herthoooo

  

_To: John_

10:45 hey

10:45 sorry I didn’t respond, didn’t use my phone last night

10:46 made up w maria

10:46 how was last night?

 

Somehow Alexander immediately regretted mentioning Maria, and decided to drop the topic for now.

John didn’t respond.

 

_To: Pegs_

10:47 pegs im so sorryyyyyy I didn’t mean to ignore you

10:47 forgive me baby

10:48 are you working today? I’ll visit u

 

_To: Eliza_

10:50 just apologized to pegs hopefully she’ll forgive me one day

10:50 you wanna hang out today?

 

_From: Pegs_

10:53 you better buy me like 1000000 margaritas next time we go out

10:54 and im not working today god bless

10:54 herc can suck my ass im not serving tea

10:55 well im ALWAYS serving tea but that another story xoxo

 

_From: Eliza_

10:56 I kinda already asked john to hang out today

10:57 but you can come too if you want, I think john wouldn’t mind ;)

10:58 I just asked him (he’s making breakfast, what an angel), he’s says its cool

10:58 we’re going to CP, ice skatingggg

  

* * *

 

 

Alexander was already waiting at the Central Park Gate, furiously typing on his phone. John waved at him, shouting his name, his arm linked with Eliza’s. Alexander’s face shot up, and a beaming smile appeared.

 “Hey guys. Still alive?” he asked, walking up to them. He gave Eliza a quick peck on the cheek, before awkwardly hugging John with one arm, his other still holding his phone.

“Barely, but this lunatic wanted to go ice-skating,” John laughed, unaware of Alexander’s embarrassed expression. Eliza let out a loving chuckle, ruffling John’s hair.

“Well you had a _very_ busy night, didn’t you, John?” Eliza replied.

 John _winked_ at her. “You’re just jealous,” he answered, and Eliza rolled her eyes. Alexander raised an eyebrow.

 “Did you get laid last night, John?” he asked with a half-chuckle. John colored slightly, and Eliza shoved him.

 “He was cute okay!” John exclaimed at Eliza, who was aggressively wiggling her eyebrows.

Alexander’s gut twisted. _He?_

His mouth opened, _oh no, word vomit –_

“Wait, are you gay too?” Alexander shouted, and Eliza let out a loud laugh.

“I know, right! If we knew this in college we could’ve visited gay bars all the time, instead of those lame clubs you dragged me to!” she exclaimed, and turned to John, “But good thing you didn’t take him home John, I don’t think me and Peggy could’ve handled the…sounds,” she grinned, and John’s face got redder. 

Alexander looked at John, his mouth hanging open. He shook his head in an attempt to get his act together.

_Well, this was certainly unexpected._

“Anyways, before you continue insulting _me_ and embarrassing _John_ further,” he said slowly, throwing a death glare in Eliza’s direction, “Let’s go.” 

John and Eliza nodded in response, and Alexander’s heart skipped a small beat when they entered the park.

He brushed the back of his hand against John’s when they walked through the gate.

  

* * *

  

“So, I’m going to be honest with you,” Alexander started, while they walked towards the enormous skating rink, “I’ve never ice-skated before.”

“ _Never?_ Oh my god Alex, how did I not know this?” 

The park was busy: children running around the hot chocolate stand, people on dates skating hand-in-hand, parents worriedly guiding their kids on the ice. John smiled: he loved places like this, mid-New York. It reminded him how big the world was, that places like Charleston weren’t the only option in life.

“It’s going to be fine, we’ll teach you,” he said, turning to Alexander and giving him a warm smile. Alexander fumbled with his hands, but still beamed back.

“That’s settled then,” Eliza said promptly, and lead them towards a small wooden hut where they hired skates.

After a small uncomfortable moment for John—Alexander found out how big his shoe size was, and his initial reaction was, “well, you know what they say about big feet,” and he fucking _licked his lips_ —they were ready to go. Eliza had grabbed both Alexander and John’s hand when they stepped on the ice, and Alexander immediately fell forwards, thankfully saved by Eliza’s strong hand.

“You always pretend to be so important, but you are just a little bitch,” Eliza chuckled, helping him gain his balance. He flipped her off, and John barked out a laugh.

“She’s right, you know,” he teased, high-fiving Eliza.

“John, not you, too!” Alexander whined in response, pouting like a child. John smoothly skated over to him, shoving him playfully before setting off in a high speed. Eliza followed quickly, and the two raced away from Alexander, grabbing each other’s hands.

Alexander couldn’t stop smiling.

That was, until his face smacked on the ice with a loud thud. He immediately knew what was happening when he lost his balance, and the floor had come closer, as if in slow motion. It took him a few seconds to realize how ridiculous he looked, looking around anxiously if people had seen him.

When he looked up, a gloved hand was drifting in front of his face. 

“Need a hand?” John’s sweet, _sweet_ voice asked, a genuine smile on his face. Alexander took it firmly, letting John shift his weight and pull him off the ground.

“Thanks. How did you get here so fast? You were way ahead of me,” Alexander said gratefully, using his free hand to dust the ice off his jacket. John shrugged.

“I’m one round ahead of you.”

“Okay, you have to teach me how to do this.”

“Deal.”

John tugged Alexander forwards on his hand, helping him gain balance. 

“So you have to make forward V’s with your feet, like this. And try to stay calm, when you panic, shit hits the fan, or, in this case, the ice,” he instructed. Alexander nodded, his face focused, and moved forward two steps, his hand firmly gripping John’s.

“Like that, great!” John exclaimed. Alexander shot a nervous laugh in his direction. They skated a few meters forwards, carefully, when—

“Hey losers! Even slugs are faster than you!” Eliza shouted at them, skating by and making a gracious twirl. John shook his head fondly.

“Come on, let’s take revenge,” he glanced at an anxious Alexander, a smug appearing on his face. He gave Alexander’s hand a hard tug.

“Let’s go. Trust me,” he murmured, and Alexander nodded again, let himself be lead. Meanwhile, Eliza had slowed down, texting while skating ( _seriously, how did she do that?_ ), and John took his chance.They skated towards her silently, and when they were almost behind Eliza’s side, John let go of Alexander’s hand. He shot in Eliza’s direction, and gripped her shoulders tightly, loudly screeching in her ear. Eliza screeched back almost immediately, and became dangerously close to toppling over. Alexander let out a bright laugh behind them.

“John, you motherf—“ Eliza shouted, pushing John forwards. John grinned widely, and grabbed her hand, giving it a kiss with a loud smacking noise.

“At your service, ma’am. I heard you talking about us unkindly, and we are very sorry you feel that way,” he answered, a smug grin on his face. Eliza rolled her eyes and glanced over her shoulder.

“Alex, honey, are you okay?” she asked, and the two of them skated his way. Alexander was standing still with a grin on his face, but his knees trembled, and it was very clear he had trouble keeping his balance. Eliza shot an unreadable look in John’s direction, and stuck out her hand to Alexander almost simultaneously with him. Alexander gave them a grateful smile and took both.

 They skated a few rounds that way, with Alexander in the middle. He couldn’t stop smiling as he tried to remember the last time his heart felt this full. The weather was beautiful, sunny in the middle of winter, and the mess from last night was far from his memories.

Eliza made a remark about John’s father during their third round, to which John responded with various hilarious stories about his childhood. Alexander listened intently, while at the same time trying very hard not to fall down (which happened more than a few times, unfortunately). One of John’s stories, about John’s father trying to throw away his Jordans—to which he’d burned his father’s entire shoe collection—made Eliza and Alexander laugh so loud, a toddler on the skating rink started and toppled over, which made John laugh harder in response.

“That reminds me of my mom,” Alexander remarked, wiping his eyes with John’s hand. John raised an eyebrow. Sometimes he forgot Alexander was a child, once. 

“How come?” he asked. Eliza smirked and rolled her eyes, probably already knowing this story.

“Well,” Alexander started, and almost tripped—John tugged him on his feet— “when I was about five years old, I got into a fight with my brother, and I threw such a fit my mother shoved me under an ice-cold shower to cool me down,” he laughed. John chuckled.

“You have brother, Alex?” he questioned further, and Alexander’s grin fell.

“Back in Nevis, where I was born, yeah,” he replied, “but I haven’t seen him for a long time. We weren’t very close.”

Eliza tugged them towards the side of the rink. 

“I’m tired,” she announced, and promptly let herself fall down on one of the benches. John and Alexander followed, and the three of them started to remove their skates. Eliza was finished in mere seconds, and stalked towards the hot-chocolate stand.

“I have four siblings,” John casually mentioned when they were alone. Alexander’s eyes widened.

“So many? Jesus.”

 “Yeah, well, my little sister’s the only full sibling. The rest is my dad’s second lay,” John shrugged. “My dad fucked his Puerto-Rican cleaning lady and me and my sister were his lifelong results. The second generation is more thought out, aka white.”

He didn’t know what he expected Alexander to respond with, but he certainly didn’t think he’d _laugh._

“That’s amazing. What a douchebag, your dad,” he beamed at John, “You know what? I take back my statement about you being a stereotype, I know you’re still hurt about it, but I take _everything_ back. You’re the gay son of a senator and a Puerto-Rican cleaning lady. _Amazing_.”

“I’m not still hurt about it,” John murmured.

“Yes you are.”

“Am not.”

“Are too.”

John shoved Alexander, hard, and the other boy almost fell off the bench.

“Hey! Don’t! I’ll revoke my statement!” Alexander exclaimed, and John chuckled warmly.

“No, you won’t, I won’t believe you.” He stared Alexander directly in the eyes, and he almost _saw_ the other boy’s mind thinking up a new response—

“Lovebirds! I brought some hot chocolate, but I don’t want to drink it in the midst of all these screaming children,” Eliza shouted at them, while miraculously holding three cups of hot chocolate with her hands. They shot up from the bench, and quickly followed her.

Alexander tried to brush his hands against John’s again, but he was holding his hands firmly around his cup, knuckles turning white.

 

* * *

 

 

**_Lafayette created a group chat_ **

 

_From: Lafayette_

21:00 Bonjour y’all

21:01 so y’all know I'm returning to the USA soon

21:01 and I have a surprise for y’all when I come back in three days, save the date 

 

_From: Alexander_

21:02 aren’t u busy sucking my boss’s dick?

 

_From: Lafayette_

21:03 oui oui im working on it

21:04 but y’all better be free!!! (Herc save Peggy from work pls)

 

_From: John_

21:05 stop saying y’all, Laf, you’re not from SC

 

_From: Peggy_

21:05 when have you ever said y’all John

 

_From: Alexander_

21:06 okay but no one’s going to talk about the fact that Laf is sucking GWash’s dick rn

 

_From: Eliza_

21:07 Alex please I’m trying to have dinner

 

_From: John_

21:07 who’s coming over to my place I have two bottles of wine and im lonely

 

_From: Peggy_

21:09 sorry john im still dying from yesterday

 

_From: Alexander_

21:10 I’d love to, but I have work tomorrow im sorryyyyyy

 

_From: John_

21:11 :(

 

* * *

 

 

“Hey, what’s up?”

John was sitting alone in his apartment with a bottle of red wine, a bag of Cheetos, and his favorite movie ( _Reservoir Dogs_ , which he watched a thousand times at home, to the dismay of his father), when Alexander called.

"Nothing, just bored,” Alexander’s voice sounded from the other side of the phone, “I have to write these reports for Washington, while the guy himself is pounding Laf into a mattress in some Parisian hotel, it’s so unfair,” he whined. John chuckled.

“We all know Wash is not _that_ easy,” he responded. “Laf is probably exhausting himself trying to get the guy’s attention.” Alexander’s laugh ringed in his ear.

“Even more unfair, I’d pay to see that.”

“I’d say go to Paris.”

“Would you come with me?” Alexander asked smugly.

“Are you hitting on me, Alexander Hamilton?” John teased. He shifted on his couch, a familiar, restless feeling settling in.

“Hey, I told you I could use a sugar daddy.”

John made a gagging noise. “I’m hanging up,” he grunted.

“No! Okay, we’ll take Eliza and Peggy with us, they’re practically our wives anyways,” Alexander answered quickly.

“Dibs on Peggy, I want a stoner wife,” John laughed.

“Deal! Betsey already kinda is my wife, so. Best of wives.” Alexander’s voice sounded dreamy, absent.

“I thought you told me, and I quote, “domestic life is such a bore?””

John grabbed a fistful of Cheetos and shoved them all in his mouth. His favorite part of the movie was starting, the torture scene with Vic Vega. He smiled smugly, waiting for Alexander to respond.

“Damn, you got me, Laurens. But a fake wife is okay,” Alexander answered, a second too late for his standard. John fell silent, thinking of something to say.

“Alex, can I ask you something?”

“Well, you technically just did,” the other boy responded, his usual cheeriness returning in his voice. John rolled his eyes.

“Har-har.”

“Ask away, mister.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Mmmmmister.”

“Stop.”

“Okay, what do you want to know?” Alexander asked, a bit more serious this time. John shifted on his couch again, holding his phone to his ear with his other hand.

“You spoke about your mom this afternoon, and I couldn’t help but wonder.."

The line had gone awfully quiet —

“...Why did you go to America? Leave your mom, and your brother, and all that? I don’t know that many people to build up the courage to do such a thing, heck, I cried every night for at least half a year when I moved to New York,” John rambled, an uncomfortable feeling spreading across his body.

He recognized the same feeling from that morning after his last fight; he was convinced he’d said the wrong thing again. Alexander still wasn’t responding.

“Alex? I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—“

“My mom died. It’s okay, I just… I normally don’t tell people all this stuff, it scares them off, makes them pity me, and I don’t want that. But it’s okay.”

Alexander’s voice sounded choked.

 “How old were you?” John whispered.

“Twelve. We were ill, my mother and I. My father had left us, and he’d taken my brother with him. I haven’t heard from them since. Anyways, my mom passed away, I got better, and when I turned eighteen I got the fuck out of there.” He spoke so fast John had trouble keeping up, and John had to take a few seconds to process the whole story.

In all those years John had a crush on Alexander, in all those years _stalking_ the boy on Facebook, there wasn’t a single bit of background information. Eliza never spoke about it, too, and John had only guessed up until now.

Of all the stories he’d imagined, this one was the worst one by far.

“I know you don’t want pity, but that sounds awful, Alex, and I think you’re pretty great, I mean, look at where you are in comparison to where you started,” John rambled, tripping over his words.

“Thanks, John. I appreciate it. Although you really ruined the mood, with the sudden deep talk,” Alexander replied, chuckling a bit hollowly. John smiled.

“Okay, what do you think Laf’s planning?” he asked brightly, relieved by the change of subject. He heard a loud _thud_ from the other side of the line.

“Fuck! My toe! Ow,” Alexander’s voice boomed. John let out a giggle.

“Are you _giggling,_ Laurens? Oh god,” Alexander chuckled from the other side of the line, “And about Laf: anything’s possible with that guy. I can’t wait, though.”

John felt warm all over when he smiled, and he blamed the wine for it.

“I can’t wait either.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi hi! This is kind of a filler chapter, so I thought, why not bring in ALL THE FLUFF? Enjoy these moments before shit hits the fan ;) 
> 
> The upcoming chapters are actually the ones I started with when I came up with this story, and I already have one or two rough drafts of them. They're the core of this story, so that means we're almost halfway there! 
> 
> Also, this isn't mentioned in the story since Laf hates talking abt his job, but he works in real estate and Wash needs him to build up a Washington & Associates law firm in Paris. Maybe this'll be mentioned later but idk. I have NO knowledge of this whatsoever, but I wanted to make clear that Laf is not a lawyer lol
> 
> Kudos and comments make me so damn happy, y'all have no idea <3 thank you for joining me on this journey, I'm having a blast so far


	8. The Story of Tonight pt. 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "“We’ll fix this mess, John, with your dad. All of us,” he slurred. John guessed the alcohol must’ve kicked in by now, seeing as Alexander’s lids almost drooped close when he whispered, only for John to hear,
> 
>  
> 
> “You and I, John. Do or die.”
> 
> John didn’t understand what he meant by that, but he couldn’t stop grinning anyway."

John knew he was fucked when the warm feeling he had yesterday was still there when he woke up, and the first thing he’d thought about was Alexander.

He’d _called_ him, _him_ , John Laurens. If only his college-self could see him now. They had talked for almost two hours, and when John had gone to bed, he couldn’t sleep for at least two more. It was ridiculous, and he knew it. He walked trough the quiet apartment with a giddy smile on his face, humming softly while brushing his teeth.

His phone ringed, and he jumped up. _Would it be Alexander?_

It wasn’t.

 

“Hello, dad.”

His voice was still a bit hoarse, sleepy, and his good mood dropped in an instant when his father’s voice sounded through the other side of the line.

“Good morning, John. I’ll come straight to the point.” He sounded calm and distant, and John shivered _._ His father was at his worst when he was calm: that meant he was coldblooded enough to attack. _The calm before the storm_ , he thought.

“Yes?”

“I called your university this morning for the annual checkup. I must say I was kind of disappointed with what I found out.”

John’s head fell in his free hand as his elbows supported his weight on the sink. Fear crept up his throat.

“You aren’t following all of your practice groups, Jack. And your grades are…” —His father’s voice trailed off, probably searching for the right, “appropriate” word— “Your grades are lousy. Jack, this is not the kind of behavior I expected of you when I so generously accepted your wish to study medicine instead of law.”

So there was the bomb. John’s smile was shattered completely now. It was true: his grades had been horrible. He’d avoided going to his practice groups as much as possible. Right now, he was failing three of his classes. John closed his eyes.

“Father, my apologies for the grades, but I’d like to remind you that I never wanted to study medicine in the first—“

“—Enough, Jack. We have spoken about this before: _Art. Is. Not. A. Career_. You refused to study law, which is already _displeasing_ , but failing medicine, Jack… What will you become?”

John’s voice was small when he answered.

“I… I can’t do it father, I can’t be a doctor, I wanted to study nature, sciences, not… not this.”

His father sighed loudly.

“Jack. You know the deal. I provide you an apartment, a future, a _life._ And this is how you repay me? By being lazy and unproductive? I had hope, for a moment, that you found out what is best for you, especially after the ball. This saddens me. _What would your mother have said, if she knew about this?_ ”

John felt tears sting in his eyes, which was odd, because he’d decided years ago not to care about his father anymore. Yet here he was, feeling like he’d been stabbed multiple times. He knew his father: the only thing he could do now, was agree.

“I’m sorry, father. I–I’ll try harder, I promise—“

“—Jack, _trying_ is not enough. You’re from a well-known family, Jack, and people have expectations about us you need to fulfill. Not working in the legal world is a _shame_ , but you have to make _damn_ sure to be the _best_ doctor there is in order to save our family name, do you understand that?”

“Yes, father.”

 

* * *

 

 

Another unknown number called that morning, and John was already so, _so_ tired.

“Hello?” he asked, sitting on the couch now.

 

Of all voices that could’ve responded, he never expected it to be this one.

 

“Jack, it’s Martha. I’m so, _so_ sorry I haven’t spoken with you in such a long time, but I overheard dad talking to you this morning and I wanted to check in with you, so I stole his phone to get your number, since I know you have a new one and— and, I’m rambling now, aren’t I?”

His sister’s voice hadn’t changed a day: still as loud, brash and hoarse as the day he last saw her, more than a year ago. She sounded nervous, something that deeply pained John. This was his _sister;_ she was supposed to feel comfortable with him.

“It’s so good to hear from you, little sis. I’m also sorry I haven’t spoken to you, especially after the benefit ball… I was so worried about you, and father never told me what happened, but I was too embarrassed to call you because I haven’t seen you in so long and— and I’m also rambling, but—”

He trailed off when he heard a sob from the other line.

“ _John,_ I missed you _so damn much_.” Martha was crying now, John was sure, and he was at a loss for words.

“Dad and I, we—I… He hates me, and I don’t know how to change it, my grades aren’t good enough, he’s afraid I won’t get into an Ivy League, he’s _ashamed_ of me, and I—I…” she sobbed, hiccupping after every few words. John shushed her.

“Martha, it’s okay. He hates me too, although he tries to hide it. It’s okay, I promise, I don’t hate you, god I’m _so sorry,_ I should’ve been there for you, _mom_ —“

“—Mom would be _so_ proud of you, Ja- _John_ , and I _know_ she would’ve understood. You needed to get out of here. Charleston is a prison to me; I can only imagine how you must’ve felt. And I’m drawing all attention to myself right now, but I called for you in the first place, I’m _so sor—“_

 _“—_ Going to interrupt you right there, okay? Don’t apologize so much, it’s okay; really, don’t apologize for feeling _horrible,_ that’s not your fault. Could you tell me what happened with dad before the benefit?” John’s voice was steadier now, and he heard his sister take a few deep breaths.

“I got bad grades, we got in a fight about it, the usual. And then he blamed mom, and her background, and I just… I just flipped. I shouted at him in Spanish, which he understood enough to know I was cursing, and he… he tried to hit me, but I escaped,” Martha explained, pausing for a second to let out a heart-wrenching sob, “I slept with one of my best friends for about a week, and when I came back, he pretended like nothing happened. The only thing that changed was that I have to look after the kids now, instead of the babysitter, and I’m not allowed to go out anymrore.”

John was quiet for a moment, thinking of what to say. When he answered, the steadiness in his voice was gone again, and he was shaking heavily.

“Martha, please, tell me as soon as possible the next time something like this happens. I want to be there for you again, I need you to be safe, okay? Get out of there as soon as you can, believe me when I say it gets better, we’ll find away to escape him one day, I promise.”

 

* * *

 

“John?”

“Hey, Alex. So, uhm, Laf is coming back today, and I–I wondered if you–if you wanted to, uhm, come with me to pick him up from the–the airport, and…”

John’s breath was still shaky, and it was coming out in small huffs. He’d finished his conversation with Martha minutes ago, but the tears still weren’t leaving.

Somehow, he thought up the _ingenious_ to call Alexander Hamilton, as if _that_ would make it better, instead of just embarrassing himself further by bursting into tears again the moment he started talking.

“John, are you okay? What happened?” Alexander’s voice was clearly worried. John bit his lips, a lump rising in his throat.

“Nothing I just… I just need to get out of here for a moment,” he eventually choked out. He could hear Alexander nodding from the other side of the line.

“Okay, hang in there. I’m finishing up this report and then I’ll drop by, we can take your car to the airport, even though that vehicle scares the shit out of me, I mean, it’s _so abhorrently huge._ ”

John laughed weakly in response.

 

* * *

 

They didn’t speak about the phone call until they were at the airport, drinking crappy coffee amongst the travelers. Lafayette was arriving with Washington in less than half an hour, and John and Alex had run out of topics to avoid the initial conversation any further.

Alexander bit his lip worriedly, and when he glanced at John, he found the boy already staring at him.

“Look, John, we don’t have to talk about it, but—“

“—I’d rather, I’d rather not, it’s... I don’t want to burden you.”

“You won’t, I promise you. It’s alright if you don’t want to talk about it right now, but to be honest with you, you look like shit right now, and I think it’ll help you if you talk about it with someone, be it with me or Laf or Eliza or anyone else.”

Alexander responded quickly and straight to the point, something John always admired about him during his debates in college. He gulped.

“It’s my father,” he managed to choke out. “Normally I’d excuse his shitty behavior, I’d just ignore it or accept it or whatever, but he called me this morning about my bad performance in school and I just… I just broke, and then my sister called, even though I haven’t spoken to hear in more than a _year,_ and she told me he’s pulling the same manipulative, borderline abusive shit on her as he did to me years ago, and… and I’m so scared for her, she’s so _young_ and _powerless,_ and I felt powerless as well, I didn’t know what to do…”

John wasn’t crying anymore, thank god. He wasn’t that much of a crier, and he was pretty sure he’d used up all his tears this morning. But he did feel choked still, like he did this morning, and he felt an embarrassing brush creep up on his cheeks when he took a glimpse of Alexander’s intense stare. It was like he realized a second too late that John had finished, it seemed, and when they locked eyes he woke up out of his reverie.

“I’m so sorry to hear that, John. If there is anything I can help you with, you tell me, okay?”

John nodded, and suddenly Alexander was walking up to him, and he was spreading his arms, and– _oh._

Alexander was hugging him, tightly. One of his hands wrapped behind John’s neck firmly, grasping at the little neck hairs.

So John wrapped his arms around him, too, and buried his face in Alexander’s neck.

For the first time that day, he felt like he could breathe again.

 

* * *

 

Alexander and John were so caught up in the heaviness of their conversation, they almost missed Washington hurriedly letting go of Lafayette’s hand the moment they entered the arrival hall. _Almost._

Needless to say, Lafayette was elated, and they had to listen to him ramble on and on about Paris.

Washington had politely declined John’s offer to ride him home, claiming that it “wasn’t professional that a junior attorney knew his address,” to which Alexander had furiously whispered under his breath “being a sugar daddy to a French millionaire” wasn’t also that professional.

Luckily for Alexander, Washington hadn’t heard him.

Unluckily for both Alexander _and_ John, this meant Lafayette used their ride home as an opportunity to talk about Washington _the entire time._ About his laugh, his tiny remarks during dinner, his hand on Lafayette’s lower back, the way their hands brushed when they were walking next to each other…

John tried not to think about how Alexander did that last thing to him two days ago. He glanced at Alexander through the rear-view mirror (as Lafayette had immediately called shotgun the moment the stepped outside), only to see the other boy furiously texting.

“So social,” John remarked jokingly. Alexander’s face shot up, and to his surprise, a slight blush formed on his cheeks.

“Sorry, that was Maria, I’ll put it away,” he blurted out, and John laughed, ignoring the small sting he felt in his chest.

“You can finish that conversation, you know. It seemed important.”

Alexander gave him a sheepish smile through the mirror.

“It kinda was, but I didn’t enjoy having it.”

 

* * *

  

**_One day later_ **

 

“My dearly beloved, we are gathered here today—“

“—Laf, we’re not getting married, for fuck’s sake, just tell us your surprise!” Peggy’s voice was loud and boisterous, already slurring a bit after her third glass of wine.

The whole crew was sitting in John and Lafayette’s apartment: Eliza, Peggy, Hercules, Alexander, and John. They had planned Lafayette’s surprise one day after his arrival so he could sleep off his jetlag. He had a broad smile on his face, and so did Alexander, who was standing next to him with a beer in his hand.

“Peggy, you’re ruining my speech,” Lafayette replied cheerily. “Anyways, I have some exciting news for all of you, and so does Alexander, so we’re going to celebrate the shit out of tonight.” He raised his drink.

“Raise a glass!”

Eliza whooped, and Peggy yelled “amen,” before downing her fourth glass in one go.

“Okay, so Alexander can go first, since I will actually _show_ my surprise to all of y’all,” Lafayette continued, gaining a few groans across the room for his unnecessary use of “y’all,” something John particularly hated.

Alexander stepped forwards, his grin almost splitting his face in two.

 “So, Washington visited me this morning at work, and he told me he might be stepping down soon… he’s entering the senate as a representative for Virginia,” he started, and paused to take a look at Lafayette, who was listening with so much love it was almost nauseating,

 

“And… he told me I’m the likeliest candidate to take over his position as head of the Washington & Associates firm.”

Once he finished, he couldn’t help but let out a squeal, jumping up and down with his free hand clenched in a victorious fist. The room whooped and cheered at him, but Alexander’s eyes immediately drifted to one face in particular.

He almost swore he saw the same warm glow in John’s eyes he saw in Lafayette’s earlier.

Alexander coughed in his hand and looked away, suddenly feeling suffocated in the crowded room.

 

* * *

 

“Laf, I’m all for the surprise thing, but a _limo,_ seriously?” Alexander groaned, pressed to John and Peggy’s sides. John had been quiet the entire ride, and Alexander was getting sick of it. He tapped the other boy’s knees a few time, failing to get his attention.

“Hey. Hey. John. You with us?”

John’s face shot up.

“Yeah, I’m good. Just don’t really like limo’s, is all.”

Alexander laughed warmly.

“You and me both, Laurens. You and me both.”

The limo took a sharp turn, and Lafayette whooped loudly.

“We’re there, y’all!” he shouted. He was sitting on Hercules’ lap, drinking champagne straight out of the bottle. Eliza and Peggy were sitting next to them, in front of John, giggling at Lafayette’s behavior. They were both wearing a bright pink boa (Lafayette had _insisted_ ) and even though Peggy had left the dishcloth at home, she was wearing star-stickers all over her face and hair.

John absolutely adored it. His thoughts drifted off to a world where he wasn’t gay, where he didn’t disappoint his father at every opportunity there was. He’d definitely date a girl like Peggy: groovy, sweet, and funny.

He woke up out of his reverie by Eliza’s loud gasp.

 

“Alex, John, check your Facebook _now._ ”

Her eyes were widened and a little bit anxious, and both boys immediately grabbed their phones.

“What’s going on Bets—Oh.” Alexander held a hand over his mouth in shock, and at the same time John saw what they were talking about on his phone, too.

“Oh my god, we’ve gone viral!” Alexander screamed.

“You _what_?” Peggy asked, eyebrows raised. Eliza’s face was frozen in shock, but Alexander grinned.

“We went ice skating yesterday, and we held hands and all, the three of us. Liberal social media absolutely _loves_ it: _“Son of a Republican senator holds hands with the daughter of democratic sensation Philip Schuyler and upcoming junior attorney Alexander Hamilton.”_

Alexander started laughing, but suddenly stopped, eyes wide in shock when he glanced at John.

“John, your dad…”

John's eyes widened, shoulders slumping. "We'll have to see how he's going to react," he replied bleakly. 

“That sucks, John,” Peggy murmured. She tapped her feet against his toes as to comfort him, and he smiled weakly at her. Alexander leaned into his side, and John could smell his breath from here.

“We’ll fix this mess, John, with your dad. All of us,” he slurred. John guessed the alcohol must’ve kicked in by now, seeing as Alexander’s lids almost drooped close when he whispered, only for John to hear,

 

“You and I, John. Do or die.”

John didn’t understand what he meant by that, but he couldn’t stop grinning anyway.

 

* * *

 

 

“What do you think?”

Lafayette’s question was simple, but no one in their group could seem to muster up words to reply. It was already crazy enough they got inside this club without paying or having to show ID’s, but this…

The place was enormous, _gorgeous,_ and filled to the brim with extraordinary people. Drag queens, acrobats, celebrities, strippers, dancers, fashion guru’s, designers… The ceilings were decorated with glitter and feathers. Performers on stilts were handing out free drinks, and the music was addicting.

 

All in all, it was like Gatsby himself walked the fuck out of Fitzgerald’s novel to throw this party.

“Laf, what is this place?” Alexander shouted over the music, while their group huddled together in the crowd. Lafayette beamed.

“This, my friends, is my club. It’s called _La Revolution_ , and I bought it last week.”

The group gawked at him.

“Your what?!” Peggy screamed, high-pitched. Lafayette’s grin widened even further.

“I talked with Washington in Paris, about how I disliked my job, and he told me to make the most of what I’ve got. So when I was in Paris, I decided to own something I _really_ enjoy, hence my decision to buy this place! Isn’t it amazing? It’s like my house parties, but _every night!_ ” Lafayette was possibly radiating happiness right now, and all John could do was hug the shit out of him.

“I’m so happy for you, Laf,” he whispered in his best friend’s ear. Alexander and Hercules clapped Lafayette on the back.

“I can’t believe you’ve actually bought a fucking club,” Alexander remarked, clearly overwhelmed by the fact. John gave him a reassuring nod. Somehow he recognized Alexander’s discomfort from earlier situations. When he first saw John’s car, for example. He imagined it was logical to feel uncomfortable by the fact that one of your friends has so much money to spend, while you’re struggling to get by.

Even though the Schuyler sisters were also filthy rich, luckily there was still Peggy, sober, down-to-earth Peggy, to voice Alexander’s discomfort.

“Are you insane, Laf? The fuck? I mean, it’s cool and all, but _you’re twenty-two_! And you’re already owning one of the biggest clubs in the entire night life scene of New York?” she exclaimed, ignoring Eliza’s attempts to calm her down with shushes. John tried to hide his chuckle, and when he caught Alexander’s widened eyes, he winked conspiringly.

 

* * *

  

“So, I have to admit something to you,” John slurred, after finishing his fifth free martini.

He was lightheaded. Eliza, whom he was talking to, patted him on the back slowly, also smashed. They were sitting together on one of the loveseats in the back of Lafayette’s club, watching as Alexander was in the middle of his usual ritual: charming a girl. Eliza jokingly told John seconds ago that he was already in the “dance phase:” two phases later would mean “either banging the shit out of her in the bathroom, _or_ taking her home.”

Somehow Drunk John decided this was the exact moment to come clean to Eliza.

“Spill,” Eliza replied, taking a big gulp of her cosmopolitan, a drink she’d fallen in love with ever since Angelica had persuaded her to try it, years ago. John closed his eyes, leant in.

“This is really embarrassing, Liza, so don’t you dare laugh at me,” he warned, and Eliza shook her head solemnly.

“I swear!” she replied, spilling half of her drink on her skirt. “Fuck!”

“Okay, listen to me,” John mumbled, and Eliza turned her ear towards his mouth to hear him better.

“When we were in college, I used to have this huuuuuge crush on Alex, but you and him used to date, so I never did anything about it. Stupid, huh?”

Eliza’s eyes widened.

“Oh my god, John, I’m so sorry! I didn’t know!”

"Why are you apologizing, silly?” John replied, frowning. Eliza buried her face in her free hand, whining loudly.

“Because I’m _gay,_ John, and if I’d told you sooner you could’ve gone after him!” she exclaimed. John laughed.

“Don’t feel guilty about not telling me, Liza, I’ve never told you either, besides, Alexander _hates_ relationships, he told me himself.”

Eliza frowned, lips pursed.

“Pity,” she started, almost incoherently above the noise, “I really think you’d be his type.”

 

* * *

 

 

Alexander was almost finished with phase four—making out in a random seat in the club—and he’d set a mental timer for himself to ask the girl to his place in less than fifteen minutes now. His mind wandered, a guilty feeling creeping up on him. He got here with his friends, and he would leave without them.

The girl was biting his neck now, but somehow he couldn’t enjoy it. He absentmindedly started looking around, searching for a familiar face–preferably Laf, or Herc, or _John_ —Oh. John.

John was standing in the middle of the dancefloor, surrounded by Peggy and Hercules. Lafayette and Eliza were nowhere to be seen, and Alex guessed they were outside for Lafayette’s smoke break—his trail of thought abruptly stopped when he looked at John again, and he even failed to notice that the girl attached to him was unbuckling his pants by now.

John was _dancing_. Not like he had when Alexander was making out with Angelica the first time they went out, not like they had together at Peggy’s party, no, _really dancing,_ as in, “cliché dance rom-com” dancing, or “positively sinful gayclub” dancing, but most of all—

Most of all, dancing like the boy Alexander had dreamed about once, freckles and all. And his freckles _really_ were like _stars,_ all over his face and neck and— 

Alexander pushed the girl off his lap, almost laughing at the incredibly unflattering, displeased noise she made. What was her name again, anyways? Kate? Kitty?

He put on his belt properly again, and shot up.

Walked towards John. 

This time, he didn’t have to tell John they were going to dance. This time was different, and they both knew it.

 

He walked up to John confidently, looking at him like he was prey. But John wasn’t someone to hunt at, John was someone who _hunted,_ and when he hooked he arm around Alexander’s neck and ground down, Alexander positively _whined_ , drifting off, eyes rolling back in his head. He bared his throat, ready to surrender, let John take the lead, when—

 

“Laurens, I didn’t know you were a faggot!”

 

Alexander recognized that voice immediately, and by the way John froze and immediately let go of him, he knew he did, too.

“Seabury, leave him the fuck alone,” he gritted, and stepped forwards, grasping the front of the man’s shirt.

Samuel Seabury went to college with both of them, and was an infamous supporter of the All Lives Matter movement, something that infinitely irritated Alexander. But although he thought he deserved to choke in hell, he never thought he’d see the man _here,_ after all these years. Seabury laughed.

“I’m sorry, did I just insult your _faggot boyfriend?_ Oh wait; you’re dating a Schuyler, aren’t you? A faggot and a whore, what a nice combo.”

“He’s not a faggot, you piece of shit!” Alexander roared, shaking Seabury with his fists still buried in his shirt. Hercules put a hand on his shoulder.

“Alexander, what’s going on here?” He asked, calm but clearly worried. John was still frozen to the spot, and Peggy walked up to him when she saw he was wobbling on his feet, put an arm around him, and stared at Alexander, who was still screaming at Seabury.

“You’re only making it worse, Alex, let him go,” Hercules said, trying to pull Alexander away from the other man. It was no use; Alexander might’ve been small, he was quick, too.

“What are you going to do, Hamilton?” Seabury asked, and in that moment, Alexander pulled back his arm.

 

He swung it back in his opponents face with full force, and Seabury fell to the ground with a dull _thud._

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops my hand slipped and I wrote the LONGEST DAMN CHAPTER, but yeah hope you enjoyed :) 
> 
> Kudos and comments make me sooo damn happy, thank _y'all_ for all the sweet feedback <3


	9. The Story of Tonight pt. 2 (reprise)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "He turned his body towards John, eyeing him over in a drunken haze. John was flushed red from the alcohol, his freckles standing out in the city lights outside. He looked like pure happiness, and a little bit like the angel in Alexander’s dream, too. John was too far-gone to even notice Alexander’s gaze. He chuckled softly. 
> 
> "You and I, Alex, do or die." 
> 
> Alex somehow knew exactly what he meant when he'd said it, and now, when John had said it back, he knew John knew it too. They were a team, as simple as that."

_He swung it back in his opponents face with full force, and Seabury fell to the ground with a dull_ thud _._

The moments that followed were such a blur, Alexander didn’t even notice the bouncers pulling him off the ground and swinging him onto the sidewalk until he was lying in front of the club. His ears were ringing.

The first thing he did notice, though, was a blob of curly, puffy hair, and a beaming voice.

“Get the fuck up, Alex.” John laughed loudly. He offered Alexander a hand, which Alexander took gratefully. Once he was pulled on his feet, he looked around, a bit dazed.

They were standing outside of the club. A bouncer was looking at them with narrowed eyes, his arms folded. On the other side of the roads cabs were driving past, and streams of people were walking towards god knows where.

John looked at Alexander, elated, and a little giddy. Alexander beamed at him, before he started giggling softly.

“How bad did I fuck him up?” he asked, his voice surprisingly soft when he answered. He felt a feeling creep up on him, a familiar nervosity.

He was too tired to fight it.

“You didn’t have to do that,” John said softly, nervously combing his own hair with his hands. Alexander brushed it off.

“He was a major dick. Dog. Dickdog. So, what do we do now?” he asked. The nervous feeling was increasing, and he felt almost insecure now, which was odd, because Alexander Hamilton _never_ felt nervous, that was his number one rule (his interview for example was just excitement, he’d convinced himself). He bit his lip, and avoided John’s fond smile.

“I’m pretty hungry, actually,” John replied casually, and stepped closer to Alexander, as if to prove he wasn’t about to leave just yet.

“No, John, you can—if you want to, you can just go back, I’ll call a cab, I didn’t mean to—“

“—Alexander, you punched _Seabury,_ for _me._ No, scratch that, you _destroyed_ the guy. He was fucking unconscious. Now I’m not a damsel in distress, _thank you very much_ , but that was really neat, and I’m not going to leave you now.”

Somehow, that made Alexander blush. His knees wobbled slightly.

“Sorry, too many martini’s,” Alexander laughed breathlessly. John nodded, the fond smile on his face now replaced by a smug grin. Alexander bit his lip again. He was losing this… this _game_ they were playing, big time. He decided to take action.

"I’ll make it up to you."

He grabbed John's arm and dragged him across the street, raising his free hand to hail a cab. John laughed his _sweet_ laugh as they got into one. 

"Drive us to the nearest MacDonald’s," Alexander ordered. John moaned a “god, yes!” and Alexander’s heart skipped about one or ten beats at the thoughts that popped up in his head because of that sound.

He turned his body towards John, eyeing him over in a drunken haze. John was flushed red from the alcohol, his freckles standing out in the city lights outside. He looked like pure happiness, and a little bit like the angel in Alexander’s dream, too. John was too far-gone to even notice Alexander’s gaze. He chuckled softly. 

 

"You and I, Alex, do or die." 

 

Alex somehow knew exactly what he meant when he'd said it, and now, when John had said it back, he knew John knew it too. They were a team, as simple as that.

 

"You know it."

“Only next time, let me punch Seabury too, please,” John groaned.

They stared at each other for a few seconds, and then burst out laughing again.

 

* * *

 

_From: Lafayette_

02:57 r u w alex? Can you tell him to faaire enxuleer

02:58 enculer*

02:58 or jutst tell him two go fwuck himself

02:59 the AUDCAICTY to behave lyke that in mY CLUB

03:00 anways wash showed up here so im not sleeping @home tonite

03:01 if u no wha t i meen ;) ;) ;) ;)

 

 

_To: Lafayette_

03:08 jfc laf how drunk are you

03:09 and yea im with alex, and he kinda saved my ass tonight so don’t be a dick about it

03:09 that sounds like im some maiden jesus

03:10 but have fun tonight you piece of trash

03:11 I hope you can still walk tomorrow xoxoxo

 

* * *

 

“You order two big macs, but you don't get fries. John, I don't think we can be friends anymore. Who in their right mind eats a hamburger without fries?”

“They're soggy and way too salty, sue me.” John took a large bit of his first hamburger. The MacDonald’s they were currently sitting in was enormously big and packed with tourists, equally drunk as they were. Normally it would annoy the shit out of Alex, but with four shots tequila and John, eating way too much fast food in front of him, he didn't care about anything. He leaned on his elbows, face held up with both his hands.

“A bit like you, then,” he teased.

John threw one of Alex’s fries at his friend's head. It hit him square on the mouth. Alexander spluttered, and they both started laughing so hard, it caused the lady next to them to roll her eyes.

“So what're the plans? It's still 02:00,” Alex spoke, his mouth stuffed with French fries.

John wrinkled his nose.

“You look disgusting, don't speak with your mouth full.”

Alex stuck out his tongue in response, chewing his fries as gross as he could, making loud smacking noises. 

“Gross.”

“Well _excuse me, mister Laurens._ ”

John flipped him off, but the curl of his lips betrayed him.

“And I don't know. The rest is still back there, and to be honest? I don't really feel like going to another club,” John answered when Alex was finished with swallowing. 

Alex nodded, pretending he didn't see John stealing one of his fries. Instead, he silently shoved his plate closer to John, who gratefully grabbed a few more.

"So you wanna go home then?" He gulped. He knew what the question was suggesting, and he also knew they both weren’t really sure if it was really the wise thing to do right now.

John stayed quiet for way too long, slowly chewing on his hamburger before he answered.

 

“We can also just go to my place and smoke.”

 

Alex pulled on the collar of his sweater nervously.

“What about Laf? He was kinda mad when the bouncer’s dragged me out, I think.”

To be honest, he didn’t really remember, but he didn’t want to think about sharing John for now, somehow. John laughed, before leaning in closer, his head bowed down conspiringly.

“He’s getting some dick tonight, so he’ll stay at your bosses’ place, my dear boy.”

Alex cringed. “That’s the grossest thing you’ve ever said.”

John let his head fall back, and laughed breathlessly.

 

* * *

 

“Tada!” John pulled a small bag out of one of his other coats, and waved it in Alexander’s face.

"How did you even get so many?" Alex asked, tossing his jacket on the pile of coats on John's hallway floor and clumsily stumbling into his apartment. John winked. 

"Everybody's got a cousin who can hook them up with something. Come on, let's _move_ it to the _roof_." 

 

Roof meant balcony, Alex learned quickly. He followed John in silence, and practically gave the other boy a heart attack when he almost fell of the balcony, after tripping over the threshold of the slide windows. John sat down in crossed-legged position, and Alexander followed his example. He stared at John as he rolled his joint, fascinated by his deft fingers.

He stupidly realized he was still far from sober.

“Please don't laugh at me again when I start coughing.”

John grinned at him. 

“Alex, it was your first time smoking. The first time I inhaled, I held in my cough so long I teared up.”

Alex laughed softly as John finished preparing his joint. He was a professional, and Alex couldn't help but stare at his friend when he licked the paper before rolling it up tighter.

"So maybe you could text Herc you're staying here for the night, going home stoned is no fun, I know from experience. I think you'd do him a favor too, seeing as how he danced with little Pegs," John rambled as he lighted his joint.

He’d said it so casually Alex felt his stomach drop. He recoiled, rolled his eyes.

“Please. He's not interested in her like that.”

John shrugged, and took the first hit. After taking two more, he passed it over to Alex, who accepted it with trembling finger. 

He didn’t dare admit it, but Alex was a little bit freaking out. John was a natural in these things. He was always so casual, and Alex knew from the beginning that that was one of the things people must like most about him. 

And here was Alex; twenty-two years old and frantically trying to figure out how to smoke a joint, like it was a case he was yearning to win.

“Remember what I told you about inhaling? It’s okay if you cough, Alex,” John chuckled, softly. Alex nodded. Took a hit. And leaned back against the windows.

 

* * *

 

 

An embarrassing whim of giggles and two moments of almost falling asleep later, the sun was rising.

John’s phone was dying, but he’d sacrificed it to play music for the both of them. They’d been listening in silence for a few minutes now, and John was about to ask Alex question to make it less awkward, when the other boy spoke up. His voice was soft and raspy, and John recognized it as a sign of Alex coming down from his high. He felt it, too, like he was slowly drifting on a soft cloud, back to earth again.

 

“You know, back in college… I was really, _really_ in love with Eliza.”

John’s head shoot up, and he stared at Alex with a small frown. The other boy didn’t see him, or purposefully ignored him, and kept looking at the sunrise.

“I loved that girl so damn much. Can I tell you something I’ve never told anyone else before?”

John nodded. “Of course, Alex.”

He felt Alexander shift closer to him.

“When I moved to America, I had this vision. I knew I was not going to make it without a plan; I was an immigrant, an orphan, and nobody. I had dreams of what I could do to, you know, climb to the top. The American Dream and all." 

 

_Where was he going with this?_

 

Alex shifted nervously.

“I had plans for college, for law school, internships. And… I always knew I was bi, but I used to have this dream,” he paused, and gulped before shifting again. John stayed silent, giving him an unspoken permission to continue.

“I had this fantasy about a girl. A sweet, beautiful girl. I would imagine how we’d meet and how we’d fall in love. And when I met Eliza, that was it, you know? I knew that was her.”

He paused again, still staring ahead. John listened breathlessly.

“It was one of the most intense moments I’ve ever had in my life; I felt completely at mercy for that girl. That one, at first sight insignificant, _beautiful_ girl. I saw through her, immediately.”

John gulped, goose bumps rising across his arms.

“Are you cold?” Alex asked, shifting closer. He put an arm around John, and John closed his eyes, leaned in to the touch, and listened as Alex went on with his story.

“You saw me, that night at the ball, with Eliza. We are the perfect team; we outshine the whole damn bunch. Where she lacks intelligence— _not that she’s stupid_! But you know what I mean—I peak everyone else’s, and where I lack social skills and modesty, well, she’s the sweetest, loveliest girl I know, and everyone adores her.

I saw it all: we’d move in together after college, get a little place in Brooklyn. We’d just… figure it out, get married, visit socials like the Benefit, I’d become a famous lawyer…”

He sighed. John laid his head on Alex’s, at a loss for words. The sky was a deep purple.

“And then, when we were dating for about five months, she came out as gay, and I just… I couldn’t be mad at her. I understood her, and she was so scared. I had to protect her, I wanted to protect her, because I loved— _love_ —her. We stayed together, because her father was becoming more and more popular, with his talk show and all, and people kept watching her every move. And I was still in love with her, for a very long time.”

He took a deep breath.

“I think that’s one of the reasons I chose to go to Paris, with Lafayette. I… I needed to get out of there. This… _oppressing_ feeling overshadowed my entire memory of college, I felt… imprisoned, by my own surroundings. How insane is that?”

John blatantly stared at Alex now, head still lying on his shoulder, his nose almost pressed against his cheek.

This whole conversation was an insane, ironic twist of fate _. Alexander Hamilton_ , feeling _unhappy_ and _oppressed_ in college.

Sounded awfully familiar, if you’d ask John.

“I know what you mean, Alex. I felt that way during college too. Not because of the same reasons, of course, but still.”

Alex took another deep breath, and laughed hollowly.

“The best thing hasn’t come yet,” he replied. John frowned, and watched as Alex closed his eyes.

“I never had a relationship after Eliza again. My dream was crushed, and I knew it wasn’t my fault, but still, it felt like fate had given me a warning. I was—am—broken: I wasn’t made for the easy, loving life. So I accepted it, went to Paris, fucked about the entire population of France—it’s a miracle I didn’t get any diseases, by the way,” he snorted. His entire body moved with him, and he looked awfully closed to sobbing now.

John sat up straight again, hands in his lap. He glanced sideways, seeing Alex quickly look away.

“I’m so sorry to bother you with all this, John. You never asked for this stupid sob-story, and I didn’t even ask further when you told me your college time sucked,” he laughed hollowly again, brushing off his sad posture by immediately shooting up, sitting unnaturally straight.

John’s hand shot out of his lap, grabbed Alex’s, and pressed them to his heart.

“Thank you for telling me, Alex, really. Listen to me,” he ordered, removing one of his hands to lift up Alex’s chin, while the other boy’s hand fell lifelessly in John’s lap.

“Listen to me.”

Alex finally looked up, eyes hooded from lack of sleep.

“You’re not broken.”

He saw Alexander try to look away.

“No, Alex, look at me.“

He softly grabbed Alex’s jaw, moving his face to his again. He tried to ignore his heart hammering in his chest, but the fact that one of Alex’s hands was still resting on it made it very hard.

“I didn’t know you that well in college, but I know you now. _You and I, do or die_ , remember? And I know for a fact, that you, off all people, deserve to be happy. You’re a dick sometimes, and with that I mean _a lot_ of times, but that doesn’t take away the fact that you have a heart of gold,” John rambles.

 

_My heart always broke when he showed up a bloodied mess in front of my door. But he has a heart of gold, that boy. And he speaks his mind. Kind of like you._

 

Alex chuckled, his body still jolting every now and then.

“Funny, Eliza mentioned something about _your_ heart of gold once, too.”

John smiled, and Alex was so lost in the sight of it he almost— _almost—_ failed to notice John’s thumb slightly caressing his cheeks.

“You’re getting carried away again, Alex. Listen to me. You deserve to be happy. And if being happy for you means to fuck the entire population of France—hell, even Europe for I care—then so be it. But personally, I think there’s more to life than that.”

“How do you know?” Alex half-laughed. John rolled his eyes, a bit embarrassed.

“When I was in high school, I fucked around with this girl, until my parents thought I was going to make it “serious.” Little did they know, I was as gay as could be, and when I went to college, I just… fucked it all out of the system, all the frustrations, desires, everything. But I know, I just _know_ that there’s more than that. The way you felt about Eliza, that was real, and at that moment, it felt real. I know it might seem to you that every next time is going to be a hoax, but please _, please_ remember that it’s real.”

Alex was silent, which shocked John. His hand was still stroking Alex’s jawline, and the other boy slowly leaned into the touch. Alex looked up at him, and finally spoke, his voice barely a whisper.

“Have you ever felt it before? Loving someone, and being loved in return? Genuinely?”

John bit his lip, and broke eye contact.

“No. But I believe it'll happen, and so should you.”

 

Alex couldn’t stop staring at John’s eyes. His heart was beating out of control now. His hands moved to John’s jaw.

 

He felt dizzy.

 

John dropped his hands to Alex’s neck.

 

He leaned closer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi babes! So I know it's not thursday, but tomorrow is my birthday and I have absolutely _zero_ time to upload then, so I thought, better earlier than later!! This is the first chapter I wrote for this fic, and later on I added more and more to it, but basically, this was the main inspiration to write an entire story :) I hope you enjoy it, and as always: I love to read your comments!! <3


	10. Moments That The Words Don't Reach

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "John’s hair was loose, for the first time since Alexander had met him, and his face was red, clear tear tracks decorating his cheeks. His eyes were blotchy and wet, and his lips were swollen. His mouth opened as if to respond, but no sound came out.
> 
> “John, are you okay?” Alexander whispered. John shook his head, his mouth still open. A single tear rolled over his left cheek, before the dam broke, and with a single hiccup he started crying. He breath quickened and shortened significantly.
> 
> Fear shot through Alexander; _he recognized this._ "

_Alexander couldn’t stop staring at John’s eyes. His heart was beating out of control now. His hands moved to John’s jaw._

_He felt dizzy._

_John dropped his hands to Alex’s neck._

_He leaned closer._

 

A soft whimper left Alexander’s throat the moment John’s forehead touched his. His breath quickened, and his grip on John’s jaw tightened. He stared the other boy’s lips, as if to say,

 

_Do it. Kiss me. I dare you._

 

And he did.

John’s mouth muffled another one of Alexander’s whimpers as their lips touched.

Alexander had expected it to be rough, like kisses from boys in bathroom stalls, or angry fucks with Angelica. But it was heartbreakingly sweet, and John fired all his senses, making him feel everything at once.

It had been a very long time since he last kissed someone sober (that was, he was still coming down from his high, but he definitely wasn’t drunk anymore) — so long, in fact, he’d completely forgotten what it felt like, to be kissed like this. A realization drifted through him that it was very likely Eliza was the last one, since, since…

John’s mouth was soft and much bigger than Alexander’s, and _definitely_ bigger than Eliza’s small lips Alexander knew so well. With Eliza, their kisses felt too fragile, whereas right now he felt like he was drowning. Everything was _John_ —his breath, his lips, his smell, his touch—and Alexander was drowning, drowning, drowning—

 

—The realization kicked in, about what was happening, what he was doing...

The spell broke, and Alexander jumped back. He glanced up, and unwillingly stared in John’s eyes, which were widened with shock, unable to look away.

“I’m… I’m so sorry about that,” John’s whispered roughly. Alexander’s mouth opened, but no sound came out.

“Please speak, Alexander, this wasn’t supposed to happen, I’m so sorry, I,” John rambled on. He looked miserable, and somehow Alexander knew exactly what he meant.

“You know me,” was all Alexander told him. John nodded, and his lips started to quiver.

_Oh no, please don’t cry, I won’t be able to handle that._

“I know, I know, I shouldn’t have done that—“

“That’s, that wasn’t your fault John, really, don’t worry about it,” Alexander spluttered, still struggling to find words.

The words didn’t come.

 

So Alexander did what he could do best.

“I’m sorry John, I have to—“ _go._ The last word didn’t make it out, but John understood. John always did. He left him on the balcony.

The last thing he heard was John’s voice, shouting something after him.

 

* * *

 

 

**_Two days later_ **

 

“Alex! What are you doing here?”

Alexander was standing at the entrance hall of the Graham Windham Orphanage, patiently waiting for Eliza, not the least bit surprised she volunteered to close up that day. She always worked too hard, always had. She was surprised to see him, her eyes widened in shock.

He waited until she finished everything before he spoke.

“I fucked up, Bets.” He didn’t dare look at her reaction.

“You didn’t get the job?” Eliza exclaimed, hand covering her mouth. 

“No silly, Washington hasn’t made his announcement yet, but I’m sure that’s going to be me, don’t worry. No, this…” he took a deep breath, “This is about John.”

Eliza closed the front door of the orphanage, and locked it properly before turning to face Alexander.

“Ah. Of course. Spill,” she responded.

They started strolling on the sidewalk, and Eliza rummaged in her bag to find something. “Wait a sec, Alex, I’m starving, so we’re going to get a hot dog first.” Alexander nodded, and obediently followed.

“Why aren’t you more surprised about this?” he asked while they walked towards a small square, two blocks from the orphanage, Eliza’s favorite place to hang out after work. Eliza shrugged. "I had a feeling."

Once she had her beloved hot dog, they sat down on a bench, and Alexander spoke up, while Eliza started smearing mustard over her bread.

“So, a few nights ago, John and I kissed.”

 

Eliza dropped her mustard package. 

“What?!” she shouted, voice muffled by the food in her mouth. Alexander thought about John, ironically, that night in the Macdonald’s.

 

 _“You look disgusting, don't speak with your mouth full.”_  — The way Alexander had responded, by sticking out his tongue, the way John had laughed when they were sitting on the balcony, the way he—

 

“Alex, you didn’t … you didn’t… like you did with Ange, did you?”

Alexander stared at his hands, the very same hands that had held John’s jaw not too many days ago.

“Please tell me you didn’t.” Eliza was turned completely towards Alexander now, with one leg draped over the bench and one of her hands on his knee.

He bit his lip and stared at the ground, which was the only answer Eliza needed. Her expression softened immediately, and she shifted closer. Her small, delicate hand moved from his knee to his shoulder.

“Oh Alex, what happened?”

Alexander’s mouth quivered.

“We… we kissed, and it was _so good_ , but also so… so _scary_ , and I freaked out and ran away, and we haven’t spoken since.”

Eliza nodded, and her mouth moved slightly with her, as if it was still choosing how to respond. Eventually she did, and her voice was even softer than before.

“Alexander, are you in love?”

 

* * *

 

 

“John, are you sure you are okay with this? I can cancel, it'll be no problem, I understand it’s not a very nice time to stay alone right now.”

Lafayette was standing in front of John, both hands on his shoulders, a large weekend bag on his own. He was frowning at John like he was a stray cat, like he always did when John had something to mourn over. It annoyed John to no end, but he knew it was just one of Lafayette’s quirks.

“I’m fine, Laf. Paris is important, your business is important,” John spoke softly, avoiding his roommate’s gaze. He regretted his decision to tell Lafayette about Alexander deeply right now, a burning feeling in his core. He didn’t want pity, not right now.

“John, _you_ are important. And fuck my entire business, by the way.”

“You should be grateful you have it, you spoiled baguette,” John murmured, which earned him a playful shove. Lafayette dropped his hands, and John grinned weakly.

“I’ll be back before you know I’m gone, I promise,” Lafayette reassured him, and murmured softly, “that fucking Jefferson.”

He’d gotten the call this morning, when he was making pancakes for John (John’s favorite, with apple and cinnamon). Jefferson had fucked up one of Washington’s deals in Paris, and Lafayette was the only other person in their firm who could speak French fluently (except for someone John _really_ didn’t want to think about, but he was merely a Junior so that was definitely a no-go).

“I can take care of myself, Laf. It’s only two days.” Lafayette kissed his friend’s nose before his phone ringed, and suddenly he was gone, and John was alone.

And then he phone dinged.

 

* * *

 

_From: Alexander_

19:57 Hi John, I’m really sorry about what happened. I shouldn’t have acted that way with you, and you deserve an explanation. I understand if you don’t want to talk to me anymore, but if you do, it’d be no problem for me to stop by at your house or meet up somewhere, I’m free tonight, tomorrow, and Tuesday. I hope you’ll give me a chance, your friendship means a lot to me.

Sincerely, Alex.

 

To: Alexander

20:03 I’m free tonight, you can meet me at my apartment.

 

* * *

 

 

“Hello?”

“Is this John Laurens speaking?”

“Yes?”

“Yes, hello, my name is doctor Blackwell, I’m calling about your sister, Martha Laurens?”

“… What about her?”

“She’s been in a car accident in East Bay Street.”

Black spots formed in John’s sight, and he stumbled to a kitchen chair. His voice sounded choked when he answered.

“How is she?”

“Her condition is uncertain at this moment, but we’re taking her to the hospital as soon as possible. She’s unconscious. Injuries are mostly on her ribs and legs, but she has a few critical head wounds, which have to be examined further.”

The woman on the phone spoke too fast, too businesslike, and John had to suppress the sudden upwelling of anger in his stomach. He didn’t respond, was unable to.

“As her emergency contact number, I’m calling you first. You’ll have access to see her any time you want, is there anyone else we need to inform or are you able to contact them?”

John fell silent. Somehow he fell sickened when thinking about informing his father.

 _A car accident on East Bay Street._ Their street. For all he know, his sister could’ve been ran over by a car _in front of their house._ His father could’ve been there, why wasn’t he mentioned? _Why was John his sister’s emergency contact number?_ They hadn’t spoken in a _year_ before she called him, and she’d told him their father hated her, the same way he hated John.

“No, there’s no one else to inform. She can call her friends, when… when she’s awake.”

The woman on the phone answered something, but John couldn’t hear what she said anymore. His ears were ringing as if he’d been fighting. After he hung up, his phone fell on the table, the same moment his head fell in his hands. And then he broke down.

 

* * *

 

 

Alexander was biting his nails, something he hadn’t done since high school. He was silent the entire ride to John’s apartment, save for the instructions he had to give to the driver. In his hands was a sealed envelope, with a text he’d memorized completely by now. Eliza had helped him write his text, but this, _this_ was all his doing. He rolled his thumbs over the piece of paper, his heart hammering in his chest.

He couldn’t remember the last time he was _this_ scared, _this_ aware of the fact that he was about to enter a new chapter of his life, no matter how John responded. It thrilled him.

 _Thrilling._ That was a word that perfectly described how it felt to be with John, and he immediately regretted he hadn’t used it in his letter. But he was still satisfied with it; he’d always known he was good with words. _If only it’s enough this time,_ he thought.

The taxi stopped in front of John’s apartment, and Alexander payed the driver silently before shooting out of the car, practically running to the elevator of the building. The journey to John’s floor was way too long, and Alexander impatiently tapped his feet after putting his letter in his back pocket as he waited.

When he knocked on John’s door, a small smile involuntarily crept up on his face.

 

_This was it. He wasn’t running away anymore. He was brave._

 

John didn’t open. Alexander knocked again. And again.

“John? Are you there?” he shouted towards the door, fear creeping up on him. _Was he being stood-up?_

“John?”

 

And then John opened the door, slowly, slowly.

“Hey, what took you so—oh god, John, what happened?

John’s hair was loose, for the first time since Alexander had met him, and his face was red, clear tear tracks decorating his cheeks. His eyes were blotchy and wet, and his lips were swollen. His mouth opened as if to respond, but no sound came out.

“John, are you okay?” Alexander whispered. John shook his head, his mouth still open. A single tear rolled over his left cheek, before the dam broke, and with a single hiccup he started crying. He breath quickened and shortened significantly.

Fear shot through Alexander; _he recognized this_.

 

“Is it okay if I come in?” he asked, and John nodded. He’d closed his eyes now, and his breath was coming in quicker and quicker breaths. Alexander wasted no time and slipped inside John’s apartment, before immediately running towards the kitchen. He grabbed on of their towels and put it under hot water.

After he finished, he ran towards John again, who was now leaning against the wall, and Alexander lead the other boy towards the kitchen table, were he sat him down. John was still crying, Alexander noticed, and he softly laid a hand on his jaw the way he had a few nights ago. He softly started wiping the tears off of John’s face with the wet towel. He shushed John when he hiccupped, and started murmuring sweet nothing’s in Spanish, another thing he hadn’t done in a long time.

Suddenly, he remembered something.

“John, baby, can you count with me? _Un, deux, trois, quatre, cinq, six, sept, huit, neuf_?”

John hiccupped again, his breath still heavy.

“Listen to my voice, baby. You don’t have to count out loud, you don’t have to speak. _Un, deux, trois, quatre, cinq, six, sept, huit, neuf_.”

Tears were still streaming across John’s face, but his breath slowed slightly.

“That’s it baby, _mi amado,_ it’s okay, it’s okay.”

“It… it’s Martha,” John croaked, and immediately hiccupped again. More tears welled up in his eyes.

“Ssh, _cariño,”_ Alexander murmured. He knelt before John. “You can tell me when you’ve calmed down, okay?” he whispered. John nodded again, and tears fell again. Alexander wetted his towel again after it got cold, and again after that. When John finally started breathing normally, he sat next to him.

“Tell me what happened?” he asked, his voice soft, tender. John closed his eyes.

“My sister’s been in a car accident, I was her emergency caller, her condition is uncertain, I… I have the feeling my father has something to do with it, and I can’t be there right now, it’s too far, I can’t…” he took a deep breath.

“I’m a terrible brother, yet she chose me, _me,_ as her emergency caller, and now she’s in the hospital, and I’m so _scared,_ Alex…” he buried his face in his hand, but Alexander immediately grabbed his wrists. He pulled John to him, pulled him on his lap, and cradled him, like a child.

“You’re not a terrible brother, John,” he whispered in John’s ear. _Terrible brothers leave their ill siblings,_ Alexander thought bitterly.

“I t-thought about driving there, but it’s a twelve hour ride, and the next flight towards SC is tomorrow morning—Alex, I won’t be able to deal if something happens—“ John’s voice broke again, and Alexander started rubbing his back in response.

Somehow he thought about that night he’d picked John up from the side of the road, so long ago. He’d been unconscious, bloodied and bruised; yet he acted like nothing had happened. Alexander had petted his shoulders then, yet John wasn’t as big of a mess as he was now. He was broken, and it broke Alexander, too, to see him this way.

John buried his face in Alexander’s neck, and Alexander’s breath hitched. His shirt was wet with John’s tears in no time, but John stayed silent. Alexander knew his panic attack was over, but he kept shushing him, mumbling things like “cariño” and “querido” over and over again, like his mother used to, once.

“Alexander, I’m not mad at you,” John whispered suddenly. Alexander didn’t know how to respond, so he kept shushing.

“Alexander?”

The caresses on John’s back stopped.

“Yes?”

“Can you please stay, tonight? I-I know why you’re here, I just… I won’t be able to bear it, right now. I need… I just need you, tonight, to stay with me. We don’t have to do anything, I promise I won’t give you a “talk” tomorrow, just, just—“

“Of course, John,” Alexander replied. “Of course.”

His letter could wait. Right now, the only thing that mattered was John.

 

* * *

 

  

Alexander eventually managed to guide John to his bedroom, and they silently got ready for bed. John tried not to linger on the fact Alexander was wearing one of his shirts to sleep in (except he totally did), and slipped in bed. He was tired, so tired, yet tears still kept finding a way to spill from his eyes.

 

_This’ll hurt more in the morning, when Alexander ditches you, and you’re completely alone again. You’re a horrible person, manipulating him this way to stay with you, you should’ve been in a car to South Carolina right now—_

 

Alexander opened his arms.

“C’mere.” His voice was raspy, yet still too tender to bear.

John stared at him for two terrifying moments, and then he nodded, his gaze softening immensely. He moved towards Alexander, slowly, very slowly. It took what felt like hours before the tears stopped, yet Alexander kept rubbing his back, and pressed soft kisses to his scalp, until he fell asleep.

His dreams were floating. For a moment, everything was quiet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry if this had any grammatical errors, I didn't have the time to double check so let me know if you see anything! Leave a comment or kudo if you liked this, they make my day so much<3 I loved reading everyone's reaction on the previous chapter!
> 
> Side note: "Doctor Blackwell" is a reference to Elizabeth Blackwell (1821-1910), the first woman to get a medical degree in the US! I wanted to make a historical reference there because I'm a sucker for those in Hamilton fics, but unfortunately she was born long after Hamilton and Laurens passed away. You should google her though, she's awesome.


	11. And The Evidence Suggests/One, Two, Three, Four...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "“If there’s someone out there who doesn’t deserve to be hurt, it’s John. I don’t know how much he’s told you about his past, but he’s been through a lot, and it looks like it’s all coming back to him right now. God, I can only imagine how he must feel. Just… just try to be there for him, and comfort him, because no matter if you like him or not, you’re still one of his friends, and he confided in you last night. When all of this is over, you can talk with him about the kiss and everything that happened between you two, but right now, you don’t matter. Am I clear?”"

**_One. 04:09_ **

 

“John?”

Alexander looked beautiful when he was sleepy, and seeing him in John’s bed made John’s heart stutter in his chest. _It was too early for this._

“Go back to sleep, Alex,” John whispered softly. The other boy disobeyed—as always—and sat up immediately.

“Are you going to the airport?” he asked, his voice still gruff. John nodded, wordlessly walking towards the corner of the room to change. Alexander politely looked away.

“I can drive you if you want,” he offered, rubbing his eyes to wake up more. It clearly didn’t work; when John turned around, Alexander’s head was slowly dropping down.

John imagined a world where Martha wasn’t unconscious and in the hospital, and Alexander and him would be dating, and he would’ve woken up to this sight every morning. _How perfect that would be._

“You don’t have a car, Alex,” John laughed softly in response. It sounded fake and hollow, and John winced. Alexander didn’t notice though, and forced his head to look up again.

“I know, I meant I could drive you with your car… nevermind, that sounds stupid,” Alexander grumbled, letting his head fall in his hands right now. John smiled fondly.

“No, it sounds cute.”

Alexander stayed quiet for a while before speaking up again, looking directly at John with those piercing, dark eyes of his.

“John… I really know this is not the time, but can we still have that talk when you get back?”

John’s stomach dropped, and the fall of his laugh clearly betrayed him.

“Of course, I’m so sorry Alex.”

Alexander frowned. “Are you apologizing because you had a panic attack?” he asked, “because that’s not something you can really do something about—“

“No, because I–we kissed."

He _really_ didn’t want to do this right now. Besides, he had three hours before his flight left, and it was a forty-minute ride to JFK airport. He needed to hurry the fuck up. When he looked at Alexander again, though, every thought he had disappeared.

“John, that’s not–I didn’t want to have the “talk” as in–god, please, just—“ Alexander was _blushing_ — “I… I wrote you something, but you can read it when you come back, okay? Your– your family goes first, and this is all so confusing—“

John leaned forward, and kissed Alexander’s forehead, effectively interrupting him. The other boy leaned in to the touch, and the action in its whole was so domestic, John was _melting._

“Okay. We’ll talk when I get back.”

 

When he stepped outside, it was raining.

 

* * *

 

 

_**Two.** _

 

_To: John_

07:41 hey

07:42 you’re probs in the air rn

07:42 hows the weather up there

 

Alexander’s fingers hovered over his phone.

_I kinda miss you already. Stupid right._

He bit his lip. 

_Message deleted._

 

* * *

 

 

**_Three. 08:20_ **

 

“Hey, Bets. Sorry to bother you this early.”

“No problem, what’s up? How’d it go last night? You didn’t respond so I figured you were, y’know, _busy._ ” Alexander could practically _hear_ Eliza waggle her eyebrows.

“Ehrm, kinda bad, actually. But also good. John got a panic attack the minute he opened the door, his sister’s in the hospital in SC, car accident.”

“Oh my god.”

“Yeah. I tried to fix him up, and I stayed with him—we didn’t do anything though! I just held him, it was really cute actually—and he left this morning.”

Eliza’s soft laugh echoed through his phone.

“Alexander Hamilton, you’re a sap! I knew it!” she responded. “But really though, how’s John doing? That sounds horrible, I’d freak out too if something happened to my sisters.”

“Yeah, that’s kinda why I’m calling, Bets,” Alexander bit his lip, “I really don’t know what to do, now, y’know? I’m kinda bad at comforting people, I mean yesterday was just acting out of experience, but I have no knowledge whatsoever about family issues, and all that.”

“Just be there for him, Alex.”

“I don’t want to fuck this up, I–God, I don’t even know if I want to date him or whatever but I just can’t stand the fact that he’s hurting and I wish I could be there with him—“

“Then tell him that! Not the dating part, that’s kinda weird to say right now. Just… be there for him, from here.”

“What if I freak him out? I mean, I don’t really know if I want to be with him, but I also don’t know if he likes _me,_ at all.”

Eliza was quiet for a bit before she answered.

“Alexander, I… Oh god, I’m such a bad person for telling this,” she sighed.

“What?”

“Please, just, don’t make him any promises you don’t intend to keep, okay? Don’t bring up dating. But… he did tell me he liked you, back in college. He didn’t do anything about it because he thought you were with me, but I think you definitely have a chance now. That is, when you figure out what _you_ want.”

Alexander’s heart stopped.

“He… he liked me, back in college?”

_Back when he still believe in love, when he dreamed of a quiet house in Brooklyn and having kids instead of roasting people on twitter and sleeping with the entire population of NYC—_

“Yes. Listen to me carefully, okay?”

Eliza took a deep breath.

“If there’s someone out there who doesn’t deserve to be hurt, it’s John. I don’t know how much he’s told you about his past, but he’s been through a lot, and it looks like it’s all coming back to him right now. God, I can only imagine how he must feel. Just… just try to be there for him, and comfort him, because no matter if you like him or not, you’re still one of his friends, and he confided in _you_ last night. When all of this is over, you can talk with him about the kiss and everything that happened between you two, but right now, _you don’t matter_. Am I clear?”

“Yes ma’am.”

 

* * *

_**Four.** _

 

_From: Maria_

10:30 Alexander im so sorry I tried to stop him

10:31 I was forced to do it but I should’ve told you earlier

10:32 oh god this is such a mess

10:31 please forgive me

 

_To: Maria_

10:34 what are you talking about? What did you do?

 

_From: Maria_

10:35 you don’t know yet?

10:36 he told me he was going to send it 

10:36 im so sorry alex I was forced to film it I swear

10:37 just pay him, you can't win 

10:37 alex please know I didn’t want this please please please

10:38 I needed the money I didn’t have a choice

 

_To: Maria_

10:38 record what??? Maria???

10:39 what money??

10:45 Maria please answer me you’re freaking me out

10:59 ????????????

 

* * *

****

**_Five. 11:02_ **

 

“Hamilton!” 

 

 _God_ , he _hated_ that voice.

Alexander already didn’t feel like going to work today, but the last thing he was looking forward to today was Charles _fucking_ Lee. He gritted his teeth.

“Lee.”

“There’s someone from _Opinion_ downstairs, wants to interview a few new faces here about Washington’s resignation. Burr refused to do it, I want you to take his place.”

“No.”

“You’ll have your own face in the papers,” Lee responded, “You love attention, right?”

“Fuck you, Lee.”

Alexander bowed down over his reports again.

“Hamilton, you’re going down there, or I’ll make sure you’ll get fired by Monday,” Lee replied, scaringly calm.

Alexander sighed heavily, but got up nonetheless.

“Fine.”

 

* * *

**_Six._ **

 

_From: John_

11:05 im in a taxi to the hospital atm

11:06 the weather is nice

11:06 just got an update from Mart’s doctor, she’s doing better than last night

11:07 not really stable yet, but “she’s fighting,” doctor says

11:08 how’s your day so far?

 

_From: unknown number_

11:15 _Download Video [5.8 MB]_

* * *

 

 

**_Seven. 11:15_ **

 

Alexander’s entire body stiffened when he saw the reporter, standing downstairs, and the first thing that popped up in his mind was to turn around and get the fuck back to his office again, but then he realized Charles Lee.

 

He was pretty sure he was going to fucking _explode_ at the end of this day.

 

“Hello, Seabury. Didn’t know you worked for _Opinion_.”

Seabury was completely drenched from the rain, and the smug grin on on his face when he saw who was standing in front of him was probably the worst thing Alexander had seen all day.

“Well look at that. Hamilton, _very_ nice to see you again.”

“I really wish I could say the same.”

They shook hands, and Seabury gripped his fingers a little too tight. Alexander could _smell_ the trouble in the air.

 

“Why don’t we go to your office to continue our conversation?” Seabury’s sly grin was still on his face, and Alexander felt the urge well up to punch it off, but he only nodded in response, and led the reporter towards his room.

He sat down in front of him, clearly unimpressed by his surroundings.“So, Alexander. I’m going to ask you a few questions about Washington and his law firm. The rumors surrounding his resignation are growing with each day.”

Seabury rummaged in his bag. Alexander was too busy avoiding the reporter to notice the audio recorder.

 

The questions were easy to answer, and even though he hated to admit it, he actually would’ve enjoyed the attention if it weren’t _fucking_ Seabury sitting across him.

“So, Alexander. The big question, of course, is: who’s taking over Washington’s firm?”

Alexander rolled his eyes. “I’m sorry, I can’t say anything about that, since I’m not quite sure either.”

“Alright, thank you for your _time_ , Hamilton,” Seabury nodded, and as his professional mask fell, the smug grin weakly appeared on his face again.

Alexander stood up immediately, determined to get the man out of his office as soon as possible. But Seabury apparently wasn't done yet.

 

“One more thing,” he started, “there’s one more question I have for you, Hamilton.”

“Shoot,” Alexander gritted his teeth, folding his arms impatiently. 

“Can you tell me a bit about Washington’s regulations towards... _queer_ people?”

Alexander’s eyes widened.

“Excuse me?”

“Washington’s. Regulations. Towards. _Queer._ People. You were spotted with Senator Laurenses’ son a few days ago. Not to mention you stated in college you were bisexual, multiple times—“

“— _Leave John out of this.”_

“So you admit to being in a sexual relationship with him?”

“Do I really have to repeat myself? Or is my fist a better answer?”

Seabury stood up too, now. Alexander, not for the first time, _hated_ his height, as the other man towered above him.

Seabury response was barely a whisper. “ _Are you or are you not affiliated with John Laurens?”_

Alexander barely resisted the urge to spit in his face. 

“John is a better man than you’ll ever be.”

Seabury’s grin got so big it threatened to split his face in two. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Alexander didn’t respond. Seabury packed his stuff in silence, and walked towards the door.

 

“Oh, and by the way, don’t you hate the way your voice sounds on audio?”

 

If he hadn't been already gone, Alexander would've _strangled_ Seabury.

 

 

* * *

**_Eight._ **

 

 _From:_ _unknown number_

11:15 _Download Video [5.8 MB]_

12:05 Like what you see, Hamilton?

12:07 you made the wrong person angry, dear sir.

12:07 I can almost see the headline. your career is done

 

_To: unknown number_

12:15 what do you want from me?

12:16 who are you?

 

 _From:_ _unknown number_

12:16 I’m pretty sure we could come up with an arrangement, don’t you think?

 

* * *

**_Nine._ **

_To: Maria_

12:23 How could you.

12:24 you KNOW this’ll ruin you, too, right?

 

_From: John_

12:33 can I call you? I really need to talk to someone rn

12:37 Alex?

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IM SO SORRY D:
> 
> Thank you for reading<3<3


	12. Laurens Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "John felt a strange, nostalgic seasickness wash over him. He never wanted to be a part of this place, he always knew that he belonged somewhere else – and when he looked at the life he’d created in New York, he knew he was right – but seeing these places, remembering these things that had formed him during his entire childhood, he couldn’t help but admit that this, this place he hated so deeply, would always be a part of him, no matter how hard he'd tried to abolish it."

_From: John_

_12:33 can I call you? I really need to talk to someone rn_

_12:37 Alex?_

**_1 hour earlier_ **

John stared at the endless houses passing by on the road. It was raining mercilessly outside, and the windows were damp. John traced the raindrops on them with his fingers, his head leaning on the side like he was in some _goddamn_ _teen movie._ The drive from the airport to the hospital was supposed to be only twenty minutes, but he was fairly sure his taxidriver was taking a tremendous detour. Either way, it felt like it was taking ages.

He’d already gotten a call from the hospital: Martha was still at the intensive care, but even though she was still under serious conditions, her situation had somewhat stabilized. It helped that John had a medical background, and he was grateful the doctor on the phone had taken him seriously when he asked all sorts of questions.

He shot a quick text to Alexander, using the usual restlessness he felt when thinking about the boy as a strange kind of comfort for the shit situation he was in.

Looking around suffocated him. Driving past his old elementary school, where he’d punched someone for the first time (and had gotten beaten up in return).

His old church where he used to go with his sister and mother, before… _before_ – he didn’t dare think about it.

 _The little park behind his first lover’s house, where he had gotten his first kiss from a_ boy— _Francis._

_The endless football fields, where he used to play for a while before ceremoniously quitting the sport in a (successful) attempt to piss off his dad._

_That one bar where they all got free drinks, where he met Martha Manning._

John felt a strange, nostalgic seasickness wash over him. He never wanted to be a part of this place, he always knew that he belonged somewhere else – and when he looked at the life he’d created in New York, he knew he was right – but seeing these places, remembering these things that had formed him during his entire childhood, he couldn’t help but admit that _this,_ this place he hated so deeply, would always be a part of him, no matter how hard he'd tried to abolish it.

 

* * *

 

 

The hospital was still pretty quiet for a Sunday morning. The girl behind the counter was young, maybe even younger than John was, and chewed her bubblegum like she played in an obnoxious 00’s commercial.

“Can I help you?” she drawled. John immediately (unwillingly) switched his accent back to Southern.

“I’m looking for Martha Laurens, my sister. I’m her emergency contact, John Laurens.”

“Great. Lemme check for you… yes. Fourth floor, room 4.08. She’s unconscious, but you probably already know that.”

John nodded curtly, and walked towards the elevator. He checked his phone; no new messages from Alexander.

The moment his stepped inside the elevator, an engulfing fear washed over him, making his limbs numb.

_What if his father was there?_

He hadn’t spoken to him since the phone call, and even though Henry Laurens never mentioned it to John, he probably knew that his son had gone viral for holding hands with _Schuyler’s liberal daughter_ and _a boy._ John shuddered.

When he walked into the room, his father wasn’t there. A nurse was, hunched over the bed that most likely had his sister in it.

“Hello, I’m John Laurens.”

The nurse turned around.

“Ah, good to see you, darling. I’m doctor Blackwell, we spoke over the phone a few times.” Doctor Blackwell had kind eyes and a concerned look on her face, two traits that were extremely important for a doctor to have, and John decided to trust her.

“How is she?” he asked, voice trembling slightly. Blackwell grimaced.

“We were just preparing to bring her to the E.R. Broken ribs, head fractures, internal bleedings –“ she kept rambling, and the two of them naturally switched over to “medical language,” but John barely registered what she was saying. Until she mentioned –

“—Bruises? On her arms?”

“… Yes.”

“But you told me the car hit her ribcage.”

“And her head, yes.”

“So if the car hit her ribcage, that means her arms haven’t protected it, which means—“

“—That the bruises on her arms are unconventional, yes. I wanted to talk to you about this. Another thing to note is that some of them are yellow, which implies they have been there for a longer time. Now I’ve been wanting to ask you: do you have any idea how these may have come there?”

John’s blood ran cold. He opened his mouth to speak—

“Jack. What are you doing here?”

In the opening of the room stood the person John Laurens, at this very moment, hated and feared the most in his life.

“Father. We were just discussing Martha’s condition,” He slowly spoke, and took a step forwards, ignoring the twists of fear in his stomach, “and the old bruises on her arms. Do you have any suggestions as to where they came from?”

Henry Laurens didn’t give a twitch when he responded.

“Martha has been very abrasive in school lately. I’m afraid she’s taking after her brother.”

Even though John could spot his father lying from miles away, pride still swelled up inside him. _Good. Let the girl fight the entire world if she has to._

“That might explain the bruises,” doctor Blackwell interrupted, effectively destroying the aggressive tension growing between father and son.

“Anyways, I was just checking in. I have an appointment in a bit. Jack, how long will you be staying?”

“As long as visiting hours allow me to,” John responded, almost spitting the words out. His father made a facial expression that was the Henry Laurens equivalence of an eye roll.

“I meant in Charleston. You do understand that school goes first, right? I’ll book a ticket for you to fly back this evening.”

“No, you won’t. I don’t have any lectures on Monday. Besides, I don’t think you get to decide when I return when my sister is involved,” John responded calmly, “or any family members, for that matter. You’d want me to stay if the same happened to you too, don’t you think?”

 _Now_ his father physically responded, his eyes twitching slightly. And then, for the first time in his life, his father did something he never did before.

He agreed.

“I’ll make sure the housekeeper cleans your room for your stay.”

He turned around, and just like that, he was gone.

 

"Excuse me, mister Laurens? We're going to bring your sister to the E.R. now. You can wait in the waiting room next door, if you'd like."

"Of course. Thank you."

* * *

 

 

_To: Alexander_

12:33 can I call you? I really need to talk to someone rn

12:37 Alex?

 

_To: Lafayette_

12:40 hey Laf, don't get worried or something im fine

12:41 but im in SC rn, Martha was hurt in a car accident

12:41 just wanted to let you know, im not sure how long ill be staying

12:42 the apartment's a mess btw im sorry

 

_From: Lafayette_

12:45 oh my god why would you apologise for the apartment

12:45 how's your sister doing?

12:46 want me to call you? I have some free time before the next meeting

 

_To: Lafayette_

12:47 no it's fine, go enjoy Paris

12:48 she's doing better than yesterday, but still not so good

12:48 i'm probably staying w my dad, i didn't have any time to book a hotel

12:49 I'll keep you updated

 

* * *

 

"Hello?"

“John?”

“Yeah, thanks for picking up, you dick.”

“Sorry, sorry! I know it’s no excuse but—never mind, it’s no excuse, you’re right. Everything okay? How’s your sister?”

“My sister is… well, the same as yesterday, I’m afraid. They brought her to the E.R. a while ago. I’ve been trying to call you for about an hour to tell you that.”

“I’m so sorry John, I mean it.”

John sighed. “It’s okay, you have work, of course. Anyways, my dad was here.”

“What?!”

“I know. I was talking to a doctor and he suddenly showed up.”

“What happened?”

John quickly explained. 

“... And now I’m stuck here, and I have no choice but to stay in my father’s house."  He’d stopped calling his childhood home his _Parent’s_ house long ago.

“It’s going to be all right, _querido,_ I promise. Call me when you’re there,” Alexander responded.

John’s heart involuntarily swelled the size of Russia at the nickname.  _Not the right time to swoon over some boy, John._

“I will,” he said, and, before he could stop himself, added, “ _te extraño.”_

Alexander was quiet for a long time before he replied.

 _“Me haces falta_.”

John reluctantly hung up after that. Somehow, he felt better than before. 

 

* * *

 

“John Laurens?”

“Still me, doctor,” John grimaced towards doctor Blackwell, who was standing in front of him in the hospital hall. She had a small smile on her face, which normally was a good sign.

“The operation went successful, miss Martha’s blood rate is stable. And…”

John immediately stood up.

“Yes?”

“She’s awake. Still very tired, and slightly dozed off from the drugs, but awake nonetheless.”

John could _hug_ the doctor. But instead of doing that, and undoubtetly embarrassing himself, he followed her towards the other chamber, where his sister was located to for the operation.

When he walked in, his heart stopped, and his grin fell. Tears welled up. He felt sick.

“ _Buena_ _s tardes, hermana._ ”

His voice was raspy, dry.

_That was not his sister, it couldn’t be._

“Hey, Jacky. Oh wait, I’d stopped calling you that.”

She had a vague smile on her face, and her eyes were hazy. John stepped closer. Memories flashed through his mind. _The same kind of hospital room. The same smile._ Hell _, even the same smile—_

“You took after mom, little sis,” he whispered. Martha’s smile vanished, too, just like his.

“I know, I know,” she responded softly. “Dad…”

“Sssh, it’s okay, oh _hermanita,_ how are you feeling?” John asked, kneeling down beside the bed. Martha immediately grasped for his hand, and he held hers, tightly. He gave it a small squeeze, and her smile returned, which immediately triggered the flashbacks, too.

 _\- “Mis tesoros, los amo. Tendré que irme pronto._ _”-_

“I’m good, John, I’m good. You know me.”

_No, he really, really didn’t._

“You haven’t changed a bit, you know that? Still the same old John.”

John laughed bitterly.

“I wished I changed more. But look at you. I didn’t even recognize you. You look so much like _mom_ , it’s insane.”

“I think it’s the reason dad hates me,” Martha replied, and John swore she gave him the same shit-eating grin he sported so many times. Other than that, she _really was_ the exact replica of their mother. Her lips, hair, nose, and even the small amount of freckles on her nose – John got them all over his face, but his mother and sister always had finer, subtler faces. He’d always known on the freckles, but apparently something had changed in the year he was absent. Maybe it was the bone structure, or the way she smiled, or the look in her eyes—

_Sadness. That was it. She sported the same kind of sadness. That beautiful, devastating look his mother wore in the house, on photos, at parties…_

“John, are you alright?” Martha woke him out of his reverie. John grinned back.

“Asks the one laying in a hospital bed.”

She gave his hand a squeeze.

“How long are you staying?”

“As long as you want me to stay, little sis.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Alex, what’s up?”

“Hey. So uhm, this is kinda awkward, but, uh—“

“—For god’s sake, spill it.”

“Are you in New York right now?”

“… Yes? I returned from London three days ago, why?”

“I need your help.”

“You do know I don’t really want to see you right now, right? I thought I made that pretty clear.”

“Angelica, please. It’s not about me, it’s– it’s about John, and I… I would’ve done the same for you. ”

The line was quiet for too long.

“… Fine. What do you need?”

"It's about Samuel Seabury."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I have NO knowledge of the Spanish language whatsoever, so this is all googled - my apologies if I made any errors!
> 
> \---
> 
> querido: dear boy/sweet boy/general term of endearment  
> te extraño: I miss you  
> me haces falta: I miss you so much it hurts (I know, I know, Alexander is a drama queen)  
> buenas tardes, hermana: Hi there, sister/ Good evening, sister  
> hermanita: little sister  
> Mis tesoros, los amo. Tendré que irme pronto: My treasures, I love you. I will have to leave soon.
> 
> \---
> 
> This chapter is a bit shorter - this was on purpose. It's an "interlude," after all (haha) next chap will probably be longer again, since I have no control over my life and the amount of words I write ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> As always: thank you so much for reading, leave a kudo/comment if you enjoyed!


	13. Look at the cost, and all that we've lost

Alexander kept looking at his watch, one of his hands holding a cigarette, trembling heavily. He was standing under a shed; rain was pouring down, and a small breeze ruffled his hair.

Angelica was late. She was _never_ late.

He had exactly two hours and forty-two minutes to find a way into _Opinion’s_ headquarters, find Seabury, and prevent him from publishing his article. With his free hand, he grabbed his phone. _No new messages_. He checked the unknown number's message for the fifth time in the ten minutes since he'd gotten it.

_You’ll meet up with Maria at 17:00. Bring the money, or watch your five-year plan go up in flames._

He inhaled deeply. _Why was he shaking so much? He never did._

“Alex!”

Angelica’s voice was like a beacon of light to him, and when he exhaled, it was soundly and relieved. “Wow, you look like shit, dude.”

Alexander gave her a cigarette. It was an unspoken form of apology for the both of them: whenever they had a fight, they’d offer each other a cigarette. A peace offering.

“So what’s the plan? Are we a crime team, now?” she grinned, taking the cigarette and lighting it with her own lighter.

“More like anti-crime,” he replied bitterly, taking a long drag from his cigarette.

“Elaborate,” Angelica grinned. Alexander toyed with his lighter. “Seabury recorded our interview without asking me, and then he started asking me questions about John – the audio suggests we’re dating. He wants to use it against me, but mostly against John.”

A frown replaced Angelica’s grin. “Are you?”

“Not the right question, Angie.”

“It damn well is! If you’re dating, it’s only going to get worse from here,” she recoiled. Alexander rolled his eyes.

“Don’t be jealous.”

“Alex. Did you really think I’m still swooning over you? Oh, please.”

They stared at each other. And then Alexander burst out laughing.

“Good. But no, we’re not dating.” _Yet_ , his brain added, and he felt the immediate urge to kick himself.

“Okay, so what do you want me to do?” Angelica asked, throwing her cigarette on the ground, simultaneously with Alexander. He frowned, face focused.

“I need you to get us an appointment with _Opinion_ , today. Seabury writes for the paper, not the online forum, _thank god_. From what I’ve found online, the press starts in the evening, 17:00, so we’ll have to stop him before that. ”

That last bit was a lie: press started at 22:00 for the morning paper. If Angelica knew, she didn’t mention it, but merely nodded in response.

“You have the connections, Ang. You think you can do it?” She nodded again, and her eyes were preening, piercing through his when she asked, “so how are you going to stop him?”

Alexander’s shoulders straightened.

“I'll write my arguments down, like I'm best at. Then I'll confront him.”

Angelica raised her eyebrows, something Alexander recognized as her way of asking _why._ He grinned, a little nervously.

“Law never lies: it’s illegal to secretly record audio when the owner of the property where it’s recorded has specifically said so – and as a matter of fact, it’s in Washington’s regulations that every lawyer at our firm has their say in sense of privacy, junior or not.”

When he finished speaking Angelica gave him an approving nod. “You’ve done your homework, _junior_ ,” she replied, a small laugh appearing on her face. “But you do know I already knew that, right, honey? You don’t have to lecture _me_ on regulations in law firms.”

Alexander rolled his eyes. “We don’t have time for this. Now, go! Call your connections! Use your network experiences!”

 

* * *

 

 

The car ride to the Laurens estate was the most tense and silent one John had ever experienced, and that included that one time John had beaten up a jock in high school. He had no choice but to follow through with Henry Laurens’ plan to let his son stay the weekend, though, if he didn’t want to create any suspension about the ideas he had about his father. His thoughts were with Alexander, who hadn’t texted him since their phone call, but mostly with Martha, the little version of Eleanor, his beautiful sister. He bit his lip, the houses passing him quietly and quickly as his father stared off into the horizon like he didn’t even know his son was sitting next to him.

John’s stepmother had left his father years ago, and Martha always joked how everyone sooner or later sees what a monster their father actually is – that is, half-joking.

His half-siblings were at home, and Henry Laurens had grumbled something about how expensive a nanny was, now that Martha was unavailable. John felt like he could puke.

“So, you have any idea how long you’ll be here?” his father suddenly asked when they arrived, sounding like he already expected his son to leave. _So much for telling me how much you’ve missed me at the Benefit,_ John thought bitterly. He shrugged, feigning ignorance like a professional.

“I’ll leave when Martha is healthy. If she’s ready to leave, I’m ready to leave.” His father frowned, but nodded nonetheless, and the two of them moved to the kitchen.

“As long as you keep up with your assignments, and take notes from classmates. The housekeeper is preparing your room at the moment. You can stay here for the moment, greet your siblings,” he father said absentmindedly, already texting on his phone. John nodded, and at the same moment, a horde of small children ran into the kitchen.

“Jack! Jack! Jack is home!” three little voices sounded, excited until they saw the other figure in the room. Their backs straightened immediately.

“Kids, what did I tell you about shouting in the house?” Henry Laurens asked, an empty smile plastered on his face, his phone still in his hand. John almost snorted. _Really teaching manners here, Henry._

“Sorry, father.” The kids answered, almost synchronized.

“Let me look at y’all,” John responded, gesturing with his hands for them to come closer. The youngest, a little girl, ran up to him immediately.

“Hey Mary,” John smiled. Mary smiled back shyly.

“Jemmy, Junior, you’ve grown so much, it’s scaring me,” John laughed, and his siblings broke out in a toothy grin, clearly more comfortable than before. After their father had left the room to take a phone call, they all hugged him firmly, and John felt like he was on the verge of crying – again. Mary blinked up at him.

“I found a box upstairs that has Martha’s and your name on it,” she whispered softly, and John’s heart thudded.

“I’ll take a look at it. Now who wants to watch a movie?”

The kids cheered, and it might’ve been the brightest thing John had seen all day – maybe except for Alexander that morning, but he’d never admit that.

 

* * *

 

“How’s your article doing?” Angelica’s voice was way too nonchalant for this situation, Alexander realized with annoyance.

“It’s not an article, Ang. I’m just writing out what I’m going to say to Seabury, and then I’ll leave it on his desk to put more salt in the wound,” he responded quickly, his eyes still focused on his laptop.

“Guess you could say you’re being very… salty,” Angelica deadpanned. Alexander rolled his eyes, and already opened his mouth to fire back, but she was faster than he was (something that happened more often than he’d like to admit).

“Anyways, called you to let you know you might want to hurry.”

“And that is?”

“I cherish the day you’ll ever let me finish my sentence,” Angelica sighed, and continued, “that is, my _dearest,_ because you have a visitor’s pass for the _Opinion_ that’s valid for the next two hours.”

Alexander shot up, already pressing “print” on his laptop.

“Angie, you’re the best.”

“Do what you must, Alex. Just don’t lose your head. When you’re done, take a break, okay? You kinda looked like a corpse.”

“Thanks. I’ll talk to you later Angie, you’re really the best!”

“I know.”

 

Alexander practically _ran_ towards the subway, his legs getting soaked in the rain puddles, and the train ride was _too long_. After also running to the headquarters of the newspaper, he got a few strange looks when out of breath asking for a visitor’s pass under his name, but when he walked up to the elevator, he felt victorious.

Seabury’s office wasn’t hard to find: they all had small compartments with name plackets on them, and Alexander didn’t bother knocking. He all but kicked the door open, grinning smugly at the shocked expression of the man in front of him.

“Hello, Samuel. Nice to see you again today.”

Seabury’s eyes widened, but remained his composure when he responded.

“I really wish I could say the same.”

Alexander almost laughed at the parallel of their meeting earlier that day. Almost.

“I have some questions for you, and then I have some news,” Alexander spitted out, and quietly added, “Damn, I’d make a mean journalist.”

“Ask away, Hamilton.” Seabury focused on his computer again.

“You have implied earlier that you’ve recorded at least a portion of our conversation, haven’t you, Samuel?”

Seabury stopped typing for a moment, but then asked, “Why do you ask?”

“Is that a yes or a no, Seabury?”

The other man sighed.

“Yes?”

Alexander’s grin widened.

“Than I hereby, by order of the law, command you to let me, Alexander Hamilton, listen to it. I want to know what exactly you’ve recorded.” He stared daringly at Seabury, an almost too dramatic flair weaving through his voice. _No, you can never be too dramatic, Hamilton._

“By order of the law? Are you an officer?” Seabury huffed.

“Would you like to speak to one? Because if you don’t obey my order, you sure as hell will,” Alexander recoiled immediately. Seabury sighed again, but this time, it trembled.

“Fine.”

 

* * *

 

 

Mary had given him clear instructions, and when his father claimed he had an emergency meeting with the council that same evening, John immediately climbed up the ladder towards the attic. His little sister had told him the box was in the far left corner of the room, hidden under two old curtains – and it was. The second John had blown the dust off it, his heart stopped.

He recognized this handwriting.

 

_For John and Martha_

_If you’re reading this, I’m already gone. I’m so sorry for everything I’ve put you through. The both of you mean more to me than anything in my life. Every time I look at you, I marvel at the wonders I’ve created. You deserve everything in this life; don’t let anyone stop you from believing that. Please know that my last thoughts will be of you. I love you._

_Con amor,_

_Your mother._

 

The tears were slipping rapidly down John’s cheeks, but he didn’t fail to notice the small photographs attached to the letter, along with a few dresses and jewelry. It even _smelled_ like his mother, a scent he’d long forgotten before opening the box.

The first question that popped up into his head when he’d regained all his senses, though, was: _why hadn’t he ever seen this before?_

 

* * *

 

 

“You recorded everything?” Alexander asked in disbelief.

“Yes.” Seabury was still typing, but his hands trembled slightly.

“Another question, Samuel. The press for tomorrow’s paper starts running at 22:00, am I correct?”

The journalist nodded. “Hamilton, just tell me what you came here for, I really can’t use an annoying little lawyer in my office right now, I have deadlines.”

“I’ll be gone before you know it. Anyways, you can’t publish my article.”

Alexander triumphantly crossed his arms, but the other man just laugh.

“Yes, I can,” he responded. “I got permission to interview one of the attorneys at Washington’s firm, and that’s what I did.”

“Yes, but you forgot one crucial thing, my _dear_ Samuel,” Alexander grinned.

“And that is?”

Alexander had is full attention now.

“Washington’s regulations towards privacy. It says specifically in our official documents that, even though it is in fact legal to record in the firm building, the lawyers decide for themselves what their privacy regulations are in their respective offices. I hereby officially declare it illegal to record or take pictures without my permission or knowledge in my office, and you, my friend, have done exactly that.”

The way Seabury’s face got paler and paler with the second was so beautiful, Alexander wished _he_ could film it. He continued.

“Now, I’ve already contacted my boss: if you do continue to publish this article, not only will you be fired from this newspaper, but a lawsuit will also follow.”

That was bluff: Alexander hadn’t spoken to Washington yet. But Angelica had told him Washington would agree nonetheless, and who was he not to believe Angelica?

Seabury stood up.

“And how do you think I’ll be able to find a new subject to write about within _six hours?_ ”

Alexander laughed. “That’s not my problem. Anyways, gotta blast.”

And when he exited the room, it dawned on him.

_Six hours._

He froze. The press started at 22:00.

Alexander frantically rolled up his sleeve, blinking at his watch.

_16:34._

* * *

 

“You’re late.”

Maria looked like a _wreck._ Alexander was surprised to see someone look worse than him, but with her hollow cheeks, blotched skin and deep bags under her eyes she’d certainly outdone him.

“I have the money.”

“Cash?”

Alexander didn’t bother respond, exasperation finding its way into his voice.

“Maria, are you out of your _goddamn mind?_ What the _hell?_ ”

Maria glanced at the ground.

“I’m so sorry, Alex,” she sobbed softly. Alexander shook his head, and grabbed her shoulders. She flinched heavily.

“Why did you do it?”

“I’m so – I had to, Alex, I didn’t know any better.”

“What if it leaks? What if –“

“–It won’t.”

“But _if,_ Maria. I’ll get fired. You’ll never get a job again – no one’s going to hire the sex tape girl, and you know it – is this really what you want?”

“Alexander. Just give him what he wants.” Even though her voice was shaky, she somehow managed to sound firm. Alexander dropped his hands, feeling lost.

“Fine. But next time, send someone else. Our meetings are over. For good.”

 

* * *

 

 

_To: John_

17:32 I can’t wait until you’re back. I miss you so much.

 

God, how much he wanted John to be with him at that moment. To be held.

To be kissed.

_From: John_

17:45 I left this morning, alex

17:45 lol

17:46 is everything okay over there tho?

 

_To: John_

17:48 that’s a question I should ask you, my dear friend

 

* * *

 

 

The next morning, John went to the hospital without even bothering to look if Henry Laurens was at home. That man was no longer a father to him. With the box under his arm, he walked towards his sister.

The first hour was mostly crying: Martha realized just _how much_ she looked like Eleanor when looking at the photographs, and together they’d read the letter over and over again.

“I’mma say it again, sis. You look so much like her.”

Martha smiled weakly. “It’s both a blessing and a burden. But she’s with us, you know.”

“Yes. I know.” John squeezed her hand, staring at the white sheets of the hospital bed. He chuckled to himself, and then it was like a dam broke, words flooding out of his mouth. “I’ve drawn her, you know. Multiple times. It was a way of coping all those years, I guess. I started in my final year of high school, but I always hid them from dad. I never knew why, why would I hide such a thing from my _father?_ It’s ridiculous – he should’ve _been there_ for us, should’ve _comforted_ us, but all he did was remarry and create new, perfect white kids – how fucked up is that? Why did we accept that?”

Martha looked away, eyes blotchy.

“Can I see one of the drawings?” she asked after a long silence, voice raspy.

“They’re back in New York, John answered distantly, and softly added, “I never managed to catch her fire, though.”

Martha smiled, waiting for her brother to look at her. It took a while, but when he did, he held her gaze when she said,

“John, I want to come with you.”

“You’re graduating in a few months.”

“I want to live in New York. I want to have a small job and a shitty apartment and _be happy._ I don’t have big dreams like you –“

“No, stop it! You’re not going with me –“

“—and you said it yourself, dad is a _dick,_ and what he did wasn’t okay! He should’ve shown us the letter, the box—“

“—you’re too young! I know it sucks, but _career prospects,_ Martha; no one’s going to hire a little girl without a diploma—“

“— _I don’t care!_ I want to go with you! If I have to stay here _one more day,_ I-I’ll… I don’t know if I could manage, John,” Martha exclaimed, tears streaming across her cheeks. John winced.

“You don’t mean that.”

“But I _do,_ John, that’s the _damn problem.”_

“ _Fuck_ , Martha! _Qué chingados! Stop crying! Mierda!”_

Martha started _screaming._

“ _Martha, basta ya!_ _You’ll fucking finish high school I’m not doing this!”_

His sister kept screaming, and John abruptly let go of her hand, shooting up from his chair. The sound of footsteps running down the hall thrummed through his brain, a violent headache attacking him. He was shaking.

“ _Veta a la vergo culero, Jack Laurens!”_ was all he heard, before doctors were frantically running inside the small room, all asking what happened. John stepped towards the door, looking back at his sister, a screaming, disheveled mess.

“I will.”

He stormed off from the hospital, and he could do was run, run, _run_.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> con amor: with love  
> qué chingados: what the fuck  
> mierda: shit  
> basta ya: "enough of this"  
> veta a la vergo culero: go fuck yourself, but literally "go to a dick" (guess whose dick lol)
> 
> Thank you all for leaving comments/kudos!!


	14. Overwhelm them with honesty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> " _God, I actually believed you cared about me._ "

The kitchen table was large and empty. Dark-red wood. John was up way too early: but then again, he didn’t really sleep last night. Rain was hitting the large mirrors on his right, waves of drops hitting the glass like bullets. Footsteps sounded from the hall.

“Jack?”

The shadow in the doorframe made John shiver. He turned around again, hunching over his breakfast, softly murmuring back,

“Father.”

He didn’t look up from the table, eyes focused on the crinkles in the ages old mahogany. His father smacked a newspaper on the beautiful table, and John winced.

“You might want to read this. And then explain to me _exactly what_ is going on.”

His father’s footsteps were heavy when he walked away.

 

* * *

 

 

_ALEXANDER HAMILTON: PRODIGY OR SCOUNDREL?_

_New York, 6 th of March, 2017_

_By our reporter Samuel Seabury_

_George Washington’s Law firm is arguably one of the best law firms in New York City at the moment. Founded by George Washington in 2003, the firm is best known for its civil– and family cases. Washington & Associates was featured in the media quite a lot last month, after Washington himself told the world he’s accepting the role of senator of Virginia in congress in May, and thus quitting his current job as head of the firm. A successor for his job has not been confirmed, but many suggestions have been made. _

_The most significant of all these rumors are those about Alexander Hamilton: junior attorney and partner of senator Philip Schuyler’s daughter, Elizabeth. Even though the boy is still a junior, his resume is impressive, with internships in Paris and on top of the Columbia class of 2015, after an accelerated course of study in law. Washington expressed in many interviews to be very fond of the boy, which lead to suggestions in the legal world about his intentions for a successor – and who is more eligible for the job than a young, bright young man at the start of his career?_

_But don’t let the impressive experiences intimidate you: for there are also ones you might want to overlook when finding the right choice. Hamilton’s sexuality, however unexpected, is one of them._

_Even though Hamilton reportedly has been together with miss Schuyler since college, the stability of their relationship is questionable. The two have attended the Benefit Ball this winter, and clearly showed off several displays of affection. The day after, they were spotted with none other than John Laurens, son of Republican senator Henry Laurens, which caused unrest in the press – not because Schuyler and Laurens were friends, since they have been since college – but because the three of them were clearly holding hands._

_Here is where Hamilton’s sexuality comes in. Several pictures of the boy holding hands with the senator’s son have spread over the internet like wildfire, and even though it was put off as a mere “bromance,” new pictures (as shown above) suggest Hamilton is indeed experienced with male advances. The junior attorney claims still to be in a loving relationship with miss Schuyler, but it is questionable, seeing as these pictures are from one week ago, and Hamilton has not been spotted with the senator’s daughter for a long time._

_But don’t think that’s all. Last night, a reliable source graced us with these pictures (see under) – taken that same night. Evidence suggests the young woman is none other than Maria Lewis, and an old college friend from Hamilton told us that back then, the boy was already spotted more than once with the woman._

_Is this boy, with both male and female sexual experience on his name, while simultaneously cheating on his beautiful girlfriend, really the right choice as a successor of one of the most successful law firms in New York at the moment? Only George Washington can decide._

 

 

* * *

 

 

“No, you’re not listening to me! It’s no use; he used pictures made in a communal space! He must’ve followed me when I met up with you, those pictures were taken yesterday, and the pictures with John were probably form security cameras, or someone he knew took them – I don’t _know,_ Maria, _Jesus!_   What did Reynolds say?”

Alexander was pacing through his apartment, free hand pulling on his hair.

“Jesus Christ, because he’s your boyfriend – no, scratch that, _only friend_ for the past three years, what, did you think I hadn’t figured that out yet? _I’m not stupid!_ But this is not important – how are _you_ going to stop him, again? _Fuck! … No, I’m not going to admit to the press about John!_ What do you mean? _Then tell me, tell me everything.”_

Maria’s voice trembled on the other side of the line. 

“I… I thought it’d help you, Alex, please. When I came home, he was already talking to James – how he was that fast I’ll never know. James told him that I used to fuck you regularly in college, and that we’ve been seeing eachother for a few months now – he lied, told him I was in an open relationship with him so I was free to see you. I – I was _so scared_ James would tell him about the video, _god–“_

Alexander noticed he was crying when several drops of salt fell in his open mouth. He could _scream._

 

 

* * *

 

From: Angelica

08:49 Care to explain what happened?

 

To: Angelica

08:52 Long story. Seabury wanted revenge, I think. The pictures are legal, there’s nothing I can do.

08:53 jfc I want to kill him.

 

From: Angelica

08:55 ok and what were you doing with maria??

08:56 you’re playing a dangerous game, Alex

 

From: John

08:59 so I got a very pleasant question from my father this morning

09:02 which I had to answer with “no I’m not dating _scoundrel_ Alexander Hamilton”

09:03 also, great to know you patched things up with Maria huh

 

To: John

09:06 can I call you? I can explain, I promise

09:07 maria and I aren’t fucking anymore John

09:07 im so sorry abt the shit with your dad

09:16 John please believe me

09:16 John im so sorry

 

From: John

09:29 I really don’t think calling is a good idea right now, Alexander.

09:30 God, I actually believed you cared about me

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

John entered the living room with a heavy heart, stopping to breathe before walking towards his father, who was working on a report. Henry Laurens looked up, lips pursed.

“Why are you still at home, Jack? I thought you wanted to visit your sister. That’s why you decided to skip school, anyway.”

“I’ve been thinking about the article a lot, father. I was shocked and hurt to see so many people… suspect me of doing such things with Hamilton,” John replied stiffly, stomach churning as he spoke.

His father, seated in an old chair in one of their living rooms, curiously lifted an eyebrow. “And what did you conclude?”

John closed his burning eyes.

“He is… clearly not suited for my acquaintance.”

His father nodded, the strange glow of approval John hated so deeply spreading over his face.

“I see. Very well. Now, go visit your sister.”

John fumbled with his hands, and after two beats of uncomfortable silence, decided to join his father in the living room, seating himself across from the man in one of the leather fauteuils. He leaned forwards, elbows on his knees, hands folded together and pressing against his lip.

“…Jack?”

John pursed his lips, glanced at the floor.

“What happened to Martha, the night of the accident?”

His father looked up from the newspaper – the same as that morning – he was reading, one brow arched.

“Why, I don’t know, I was not at home – I had a board meeting that night. I reckon she crossed the street without looking, and someone didn’t see her either.”

John nodded, his knuckles turning white.

“Alright.”

They fell silent for a bit, the only sound coming from his father, licking his thumb before turning the pages.

“Why aren’t you going?” he asked John eventually.

“I… it’s hard to see her this way,” he answered, deciding it was best net to mention Martha’s plans to leave Charleston. His father nodded, the glow still on his face. John felt a victorious feeling surge up in his stomach.

He still knew how to play his father. He had to suppress a grin when his father replied, _finally_ giving away pieces of the puzzle when he spoke.

“Before the accident she was… very restless. I was afraid she might take the wrong path. I got calls from her school, she got into fights, did drugs…”

 _If we weren’t out of contact before all this he probably would’ve blamed me,_ John thought bitterly.

“I hope this, however unfortunate of course, gives her some sort of wake up call. One for all of us, that is,” his father added as an afterthought. John frowned.

“Why would you say that? Just because she got ran over by a car, she’s suddenly going to obey all your wishes?”

His father’s lips curled up unpleasantly – John effectively dimmed the glow, _thank god._

“I have been thinking a lot lately. My job is busy. I work late, the children are sweethearts but Martha can’t seem to take to them, and she was going downhill for a long time before this.”

“The children” were very clearly his father’s second lay, and John tried to cover up the immediate pang in his chest. His frown deepened.

“So?”

“I recently visited London for business, and caught up with my brother, uncle James.”

An eerie feeling crept up John’s spine.

“I spoke with him about Martha’s situation. She’s such a clever, curious girl. She has a lot of potential.”

 _More than my disappointment of a son, who decided to put this entire family to shame,_ John almost heard him add.

“He… gave me an offer I cannot refuse.”

John waited for his father to continue, not gracing him with a reaction.

“He has special connections with the Admissions office at University College London. It’s a prestigious school, where she can develop her potential to the fullest extent. In order to get her accepted, James offered to get her to finish high school in England – it will give her some rest. A new goal to look up to.”

John’s entire body stiffened.

“England? You’re _banishing_ her to another _country_?”

“Now now, no need to use that tone, Jack. She will be happy with my brother.”

She will definitely _not_. They had only met the man two times, and the only thing John could remember was the faint smell of whisky and snot. He was definetly the _last_ person John could see his sister be happy with.

He closed his eyes, breathed deeply. Decided to try a different approach.

“I found mama’s box in the attic yesterday.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

New York City was given code red that night. _No one should leave the house except under crucial circumstances._

Hercules was watching _Dexter_ – for the third time – when Alexander came home. Alexander ignored his roommate altogether, something he did way too much lately, and immediately walked towards his room. He was exhausted, drenched, and empty. His room was quiet, something he’d never liked. The windows were damp. Alexander looked around slowly, as if in slow motion, overwhelmingly aware of how incredibly crucial these last moments were. As he stared at the drops of rain ticking on his window, Eliza’s high voice rang through his ears.

 

_If there’s someone out there who doesn’t deserve to be hurt, it’s John._

_Just try to be there for him_

_When all of this is over, you can talk with him about the kiss and everything that happened between you two, but right now, you don’t matter_

 

He sat down in front of his laptop.

Time had stopped. 

He slowly lifted a finger, let it drop on his keyboard. 

This was the only way.

 

O B S E R V A T I O N S   O N   C E R T A I N   D O C U M E N T S

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "observations on certain documents" is the title of the real pamphlet Hamilton wrote, people just called it the Reynold Pamphlet because... drama? Anyways I thought this title fitted the context in the story more :)
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	15. Have you read this?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "“Don’t worry, I’m going to kill that motherfucker.”"

The first time they had gotten into a fight, Eliza had woken up with roses on the end of her dorm bed. Her roommate had grinned at her sheepishly, and when she had picked up, she had noticed the little card attached to the flowers: _A.Ham._

It had worked every time. She just couldn’t resist it—he’d buy her roses, and she’d melt. When she came out to him, he had bought her the biggest bouquet yet, and she had trouble getting it through the door. Most of the time they were red, her favorite color, but that day they were pink. Red meant “sorry,” pink meant, “I love you,” Alexander had said. She had grinned widely at him, and gave him one last kiss on the lips. A goodbye. After that, they still had fights, but they were smaller, and throughout the years he had bought her less and less bouquets.

That morning, she woke up with a bouquet on her doorstep.

The roses were all red, save for one single pink one in the exact middle. The card was from the same shop as the first bouquet. His writing was elegant as ever.

A nervous feeling crept up on Eliza, starting from the back of her gut to the high bones of her cheeks. She picked up the bouquet, quietly wondering why Alexander would send her this.

And then Angelica stormed towards her from around the corner.

Her face was thunder.

“Don’t worry, I’m going to _kill that motherfucker._ ”

Eliza’s gut dropped.

“What happened?” she asked softly, holding the roses tightly. Angelica’s face softened immediately, and a hurtful expression filled it. She grabbed her phone.

“There’s a paper version of the article too, but, y’know… I’m so sorry, sis. God, that _motherfucker…_ ” She handed her phone over to her little sister, who immediately started reading.

And then she dropped the roses. For one, brilliant moment, everything stood still, and then it shattered. She looked at her sister.

“He… He outed me. In an article. He outed me to the public _to save his own reputation,_ ” Eliza whispered, in utter disbelief. Angelica’s hands fisted up in little balls.

“Oh Alexander, how could you do this to me?”

Angelica held her when the tears came.

 

* * *

 

**_The night before_ **

“John? What part about fucking off did you not understand?”

It was clear Martha tried to hurt him, but the weakness in her voice wasn’t a tad bit convincing. John walked towards her quietly, distractedly glancing through the windows. It was late, way too late.

He sat down next to her, and grabbed her hand through all her weak protests. She was looking much better than before, but still pretty awful.

“I spoke to dad yesterday. A lot has happened. I thought about what you said, and –“

He stopped talking, distracted by something shiny on Martha’s finger.

“Wait, is that…?”

“I found it in the box, I hope you don’t mind I kept it,” Martha whispered. John gulped and nodded quickly, dumbstruck by the look of his mother’s wedding ring on Martha’s finger. He shook his head, as if to wake up from some weird dream. Or nightmare. Martha softly squeezed his hand, and he looked up at her, straight into her eyes, so identical to his.

“I’ve thought about what you said,” he started, and her eyes widened, “and I spoke to dad last night. Don’t worry, I haven’t told him about your plans,” he added quickly when she started to open her mouth. With his heart thumping in his chest, he continued, “I’m going to take you with me. Dad… he wants you to sail off to London, to our uncle. I won’t let that happen.”

They both firmed their grip on each other’s hand, and Martha’s face broke into the widest grin John had ever seen on her.

“We’ll have to be careful though,” John whispered, and he added, “dad can’t know anything. Now what I need to know is: can you walk? If we can get you into a plane, you can be laying in a New York hospital instead of this one by tomorrow morning.”

Martha shot up immediately.

“Let’s go. My essentials are here. I don’t need anything else. I can walk, but we can use a wheelchair, make it look like you’re taking me on a stroll – and oh, he’s no father of mine, by the way.”

John nodded, a nervous pang shooting through his chest _. They were actually doing this right now._

“Okay. Let’s move it, then.”

 

* * *

 

 

The airport was quiet – it was a weeknight, and way too early for any South Carolinian tourist to catch a plane to New York. The plane was full, though, and Martha clearly had trouble keeping up her energetic mask. John nudged her.

“You don’t have to pretend you’re not hurting, Martha, you got hit by a fucking car.”

“Don’t mother me,” she hissed back, and John rolled his eyes. They had left the hospital first thing in the morning, and by now it was no later than seven o’clock. Luckily, John had already been prepared for his flight back, and he didn’t have to make another stop at their childhood home. They had left without looking back, and John had never felt more invincible.

“Aren’t you going to miss anyone?” John asked after a long silence. Martha’s face turned numb.

“Not really. I had few friends, but things kinda… got downhill after my first fight with dad.”

“How come?” John couldn’t help but ask. His sister fidgeted with her thumbs.

“I wasn’t allowed to go out anymore, and… I got kinda insecure, y’know? He… he wasn’t that nice. My friends were all stupid shallow Southerners, by the way, so I don’t really care.”

Her facial expression told him that she _really did care,_ but John decided to let it slip for now.

His thoughts flitted to Alexander, all alone back in New York, and despite everything that happened the past few days, he couldn’t wait to see him again. God, he had missed that boy more than he liked to admit. Maybe they could finally talk, and the thing with Maria would turn out to be nothing, and they could become close again – maybe even more than that…

“Who you thinking about? You got a lil’ blush there, bro,” Martha laughed, stuffing her mouth with gross airplane chips. John’s face reddened.

“Oh god, you’re a fucking tomato! I caught you!” Martha exclaimed, earning a filthy stare from a businessman across the isle. John fidgeted with the net on the back of the chair in front of him.

“I… it’s very complicated,” he started slowly, and his little sister practically bounced in her chair as he continued, “to put things easily, I met someone.”

“Who? Who!”

The businessman aggressively flipped his newspaper, shooting another look in their direction.

“He… uh… he followed some courses with me in college, but we never really spoke back then – I’ve had a crush on him for a few years, super embarrassing—“

The man across the isle coughed something that sounded a lot like an insult, and Martha’s entire body shifted towards him in a heartbeat.

“You got a problem, old man?”

John bit back a smile. This was the exact reason why his sister was the first one he’d came out to—there was no one he knew with a more protective nature than her. Except for Angelica maybe, but damn, that girl was _terrifying._

“You kids could definitely tone it down a little, miss,” the man replied, his voice less intimidating than his posture tried to give off. _The bark is always louder than the bite,_ John thought victoriously. It had almost become a Laurens motto.

Martha rolled her eyes, and turned back to him again.

“Go on.”

John smiled involuntarily.

“Anyways, I got into a fight a while ago, and he picked me up with his roommate and some girl. We became friends, and then we—we kissed, a few weeks ago. He has this weird fear of commitment, though, but he comforted me when I found out about what happened to you. A few days ago, he said he missed me over the phone, and we promised we’d talk when I got back.”

Martha listened breathlessly. The businessman kept shooting curious, unsubtle looks their way, quickly hiding behind his paper every time Martha glanced in his direction.

“Things got kind of out of hand yesterday,” John continued, closing his eyes with a deep frown.

“He… he’s a famous lawyer. Some reporter leaked photos of him with me, and a girl he had a fling with a while ago—he’s bisexual. Dad thought I was dating him, but the pictures of me were very vague, luckily. I don’t know about his relationship with that girl, but he promised me it didn’t mean anything, so…”

Martha grinned at him.

“Don’t be so insecure, he probably adores you. A famous lawyer, huh? Never thought you had it in you! _I ain’t saying you a golddigger, but_ —“

“Shut up!” John laughed, his voice rising again.

“What’s his name? I want to Facebook stalk him. He’s gotta have the Laurens approval, man.”

John’s eyes shone.

“Alexander. Alexander Hamilton.”

The man across the isle slowly lowered his newspaper, his eyes fixed on the siblings with a strange curiosity. Martha turned to him again, but he didn’t hide away this time. Instead, he turned a page of the paper, so they could read it clearly. The look on the man’s face made John shudder uncomfortably.

“Do you mean _this_ Alexander Hamilton, young man? Because he just released a _very_ interesting article.”

 

* * *

 

_To: Lafayette_

07:07 hey so um this is probably p weird but when were you coming back again?

07:08 I need someone rn

07:08 have you read alex’s article yet?

07:09 also my sister kinda lives with us now

07:13 I’m sorry for the unclear messages, Laf. A lot has happened the past few days, and I don’t expect you to come home from fucking Paris just for me, sorry about that. Anyways, text me or call me when you read this, so I can explain everything. God, everything is so fucke up right now. I miss you.

 

_From: Lafayette_

07:46 merde John what happened?

07:47 I’m coming back tonight lol I told you like 100000 times

07:47 calling you would cost a fortune, can you send an audio message or something?

07:48 also, I feel u. Things aren’t going that smoothly here either, but I’ll tell you tonight I guess.

 

_To: Lafayette_

08:02 _you send an audiomessage [1,6 MB]_

_“Hey, Laf. So um, this is kinda awkward, but it’ll have to do. I uh, I visited my sister in South Carolina, she got into a car accident a few days ago. I-Alex and I talked, he comforted me, and we-we were supposed to talk when I got back. Things got kind of messy back home, and dad had this horrible plan to send Martha to London so I contacted Herc and he set her up with a small community high school in NYC, so she’ll finish high school while living with us, if that’s okay. Sorry I didn’t ask you beforehand, but since we have that spare room, I thought you wouldn’t mind—oh god, I haven’t actually thought about how you might feel about this, I’m so sorry, if you don’t want her to stay I’ll figure something out, I promise. Anyways, uhm, Alex published this crazy article, and I don’t know if you already read it so I’ll explain. … Uhm, s-so this reporter wrote an article about him were he speculated about Alex’s sexuality and spread rumors about him cheating on Eliza, since those two are still together for the media, y’know? Well, Alex responded with his own article and… and he outed Eliza to prove his statement. I… god, this is all so surreal. I don’t know how Eliza is doing at the moment, so I’m going to visit her as soon as we’re settled back home, but I just wanted to let you know all this. Have a good flight back, bye. Je t’aime. Oh god that sounded stupid. Okay bye, for real now.”_

* * *

 

 

Alexander was sitting in his office, twisting in his chair, over and over. He had his phone pressed to his ear so tightly it looked like he tried to print it to his skull. The voice on the other side of the line was shaky when it answered, after waiting so long Alexander was almost sure he’d get a voicemail.

“…Hello?”

“John.”

He exhaled the name, shaky, almost as if he was praying. The name was almost a prayer to him by now though, he realized with a mild shock. Somehow John’s mere existence had decreased his anxiety by at least 10%.

At least, he thought that before he called him.

“Why the _fuck_ are you calling me?”

“Excuse me? I wanted to hear you—“

John’s laugh interrupted him, but there was no warmth in it.

“Are you for real? Listen, I have a _lot_ of shit going on at the moment, and the last thing I want right now is some selfish asshole who just outed his _best friend—_ for _crying out loud—_ running to me to whine about it—“

“What? I thought you understand! _I did this for you—_ “

“You didn’t do shit for me, Alexander. The only thing you did, was putting Eliza in an unnecessary situation—the only thing you did, was _humiliate_ her, _hurt_ her, and violated her privacy. God, this is even worse—you even think you did _me_ a favor!”

“John…”

“Don’t “John” me. Jesus Christ. I can’t believe I was in love with you for that long.”

Alexander was at a loss for words. The line fell silent.

“You got anything else to say? How about an a promise to fucking apologize to Eliza?”

“John, I—“

He was interrupted by a loud bang on the door.

“I have to go.”

He hung up the phone before he could hear John’s protests, and walked towards the door with a heavy heart. When he opened it, he was pretty sure he was living in his worst nightmare.

“Alexander.”

“Angelica.”

Angelica stood up from the doorframe she was leaning against, and casually walked into his office. She let herself fall down in his chair, her arms crossed.

“Well, congratulations, Ham,” she remarked casually, observing one of her sharp finger nails. Alexander shifted on his feet uncomfortably, still standing on the other side of the room.

“I’m sorry?”

“You have invented a whole new kind of stupid, my friend. You truly didn’t think _anything_ through about this whole fiasco at all, did you?”

Alexander opened his mouth to respond, but once she started, Angelica was like a fire: raging and never-ending.

“But you did reach your goal, right? You redefined your legacy, congrats! You’ll always be known as the douche-hole lawyer who outed his “girlfriend” and simultaneously hooked up with _two_ people to prove it! But god bless America and its free press, you actually _owned up to it,_ in that wonderful article of yours! Congratulations!”

Alexander’s voice was tiny, “It was an act of political sacrifice.”

The sudden fist on his bureau startled him when Angelica stood up, walked towards him, and towered over him. Her semi-casual expression was entirely gone now, and her face was angrier than he’d ever seen her. The worst part, was that he could see through her entirely, like he always could, and the endless sea of sadness that filled her eyes was piercing.

“Sacrifice, Alex? What do you know about sacrifice? I was _in love with you._ For so many _goddamn fucking years._ But you know what? I gave all of that up. And I’ll do it again, and again, and again if I have to. Do you know why?”

Alexander for the life of him couldn’t find his voice.

“I love my sister more than anything in this life. You said it before, at the ball, and I _fucking believed you_. It’s a shame it took me so long to find out you didn’t mean a _single word._ ”

 

* * *

 

 

Eliza was _really not doing okay_.

She was sitting on her couch, her knees up to her chest, her phone next to her on silent since the morning. She hadn’t dared looking at it yet; somehow she was afraid to read the reactions on Alexander’s article. _God, what would her father think?_

She hadn’t left her house the entire day, in fear of getting attacked by the press. From hearing the shuffling of footsteps outside her house, she assumed they were still there.

And then the bell rang.

She grabbed her knees tighter, hiding her face in her chest.

The bell rang again.

With a heavy shudder, she stood up, and walked to the hallway as quietly as possible. The roses were still laying on the doormat, and she stepped around them to look into the peep-hole.

The woman standing in front of it was beautiful, nervous, and familiar, and there was no press outside whatsoever. Slowly, Eliza opened the door.

“Can I help you?”

And then the woman looked at her, and she swore her heart stopped for a moment there.

“I am so terribly sorry to bother you at home. I… I just wanted to make sure you’re okay—I know Peggy, so she gave me your address… I’m Maria.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave a kudo or comment, I absolutely LOVE to read feedback!  
> Thank you for reading!


	16. Trouble in the air...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Fresh tears welled up in his eyes and silently fell down his cheeks now, and even though John still felt a raging pit of anger in his gut, he was disgusted to find out that an overwhelming urge to wipe those cheeks now accompanied it."

The airport was busier than the first time John picked Lafayette up from his trip to Paris, and this time his _sister_ was with him. Martha Laurens, whom he hadn’t seen for a year until he got that godforsaken phone call a week ago. It was so surreal to have her standing next to him, _talking_ to him as if they’d been friends forever. She was hiding her wounds very well, and John was fairly sure she stole Lafayette’s concealer to cover up her bruises, just like he always used to do.

They waited for Lafayette at the big gate with arrivals. This time when his roommate walked over to them, however, Washington wasn’t there. Lafayette looked… aged. Older. John was sure a few wrinkles had appeared beneath his eyes that weren’t there when he left. His gaze was almost empty.

“What happened, Laf?” he asked after they hugged, ignoring his sister’s curious looks.

Lafayette dropped his head to his chest.

“He doesn’t want to see me anymore.”

“Washington?”

His roommate looked up again and nodded slowly. Only now John realized his eyes were puffy and red.

“Oh, Laf…” he whispered, pulling his friend into a hug again. Martha stared at them awkwardly for a few seconds before announcing, “I’m going to get us some coffee. Sugar? Cream?”

“Sugar, _s'il vous plaît_. And it’s lovely to meet you, little Laurens. I apologize I am sad right now,” Lafayette murmured from John’s shoulder, his voice muffled. Martha grinned and waved him off, before walking away towards the coffee stand.

“Want to tell what happened?” John asked softly. Lafayette nodded slowly and pulled away.

“We had a lovely few days at first. I showed him the Quartier Latin, we had a few meetings, walked along the Seine… and then he took me out for diner, so I thought, “he’s going to make things official.” So I dressed up all nice and pretty, did my make-up _perfect_ … and then he just said, “I’m sorry, Gilbert, but this relationship is inconvenient for my new position, I really like you, I hope you understand, blablabla.” So basically, he is a _fucking_ coward who doesn’t want other senators on his back for being gay.” Lafayette was crying now, but he impressively still spoke more eloquently than the average New Yorker, John realized. He awkwardly patted his friend on the back.

“What an asshole,” he murmured, and Lafayette choked out a small laugh.

“We weren’t official though, so I don’t really have the right to whine about it. He didn’t break up with me.”

“That doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt,” John answered softly, somehow relating to the pain more than he thought he would. Lafayette nodded gravely.

“That is true. Now, let’s talk about Alexander.” He said, straightening his posture. John gritted his teeth.

“What about Alexander? I have nothing to say about him anymore.”

To John’s surprise, Lafayette laughed. He clapped his hand on John’s shoulder, mimicking his friend’s attempt to comfort him, but with more spirit.

“I am sure you don’t. But you seemed pretty upset yesterday when you send me that message. You’re telling me you haven’t spoken to him ever since?”

“Nope,” John replied, popping the “p.”

Lafayette nodded.

“Well, are little lion has to sort out his own problems. In the meantime, why don’t we solve ours?” he asked, waving at Martha as she walked towards them, a tray of coffee in her hands.

“How are you so calm about this? You _know_ what he did to Eliza, right?” John hissed, trying—and failing— to keep his voice down. Lafayette nodded again, a small frown forming on his head.

“I know. And I know it hurts. I merely said I was surprised you haven’t talked to him again. You know, there are always two sides to a story.”

Martha was only a few feet away now, but got held up by a trespassing group of Asian tourists, whom she clumsily stopped for.

“Now that is some hypocritical bullshit right there,” John answered, pointing his index-finger into Lafayette’s chest. Lafayette just rolled his eyes.

“Don’t make a fuss already, John, I just got here. I know both sides of _my_ story, by the way, because I talked about it with George, like _adults.”_

“Then tell Alexander to speak with Eliza! Because he hasn’t done _that_ yet!” John exclaimed, and turned towards Martha, “Oh, hey sis. Thanks for the coffee.”

Martha handed both boys their drinks, before taking over Lafayette’s luggage car and pushing it towards the exit.

“Okay, enough you two. Let’s get going.”

 

* * *

 

 

It was six o’clock, the sun was setting, and they were _baked._ Martha and John had an odd sibling bonding moment when they found out they shared a mutual love for Mary Jane, and Lafayette was, in his depressed state, all too glad to join them for the evening. Martha rolled like a professional, and John was unsure whether to be impressed or concerned. He decided the former would be better for his own mental health; so they smoked up in silence, just the three of them, safely locked away from the rest of the world in their abhorrently gorgeous apartment.

It all got out of hand, though, when they decided to watch TV, and Lafayette brought out the wine.

After a mutual agreement that Jwoww was in fact hotter than Sammie (Lafayette was very passionate about Jersey Shore) and after they discussed whether Drake or Josh was the uglier sibling (“But look at Drake though, he’s got that bad boy band player going on” “Martha, have you _seen_ Josh Peck in his vines?” “Ugh, Vine is so overrated, I’m glad that garbage site shut down”) they somehow ended up jumping on the couch, singing along to some 90s popsong, because Lafayette suddenly revealed that yes, he still had that Wii karaoke game.

And that’s how John and Martha ended up in a duet, singing “I had the time of my life” at the top of their lungs, when the doorbell ringed.

They didn’t hear it at first, but after the song, when they were draped over the couch, breathing heavily, John stood up with a loud grumble. Martha whined, and took as sip of Lafayette’s expensive red wine, while Lafayette exclaimed at the same time, “No! We haven’t done “American Woman” yet and you _know_ how much I love Lenny Kravitz!”

John looked over his shoulder as he walked towards the door, and laughed lovingly, his cheeks flushed from the alcohol and exercise.

“You can do that one without me,” he shouted back, and Lafayette jumped up from the couch, knocking over his glass in the process. John chuckled heartedly as he watched Lafayette cry out, and opened the door in the process.

When he turned to face the figure standing in front of it, his laugh disappeared within seconds.

“Okay, why the _fuck_ do you think you have the right to—“

“—John, please.”

Alexander was a _mess_.

He didn’t even look that disheveled; he had a nice suit on, his face was freshly shaven, and his hair had a soft glow that only meant he’d washed it this morning (John knew all this for _some reason_ ).

But his _eyes._ There were fresh tear tracks leaving those red, puffy doe-eyes, and they were significantly smaller, clearly from crying a lot.

John stared at the man in front of him, dumbstruck and without any clue as to what he should do next.

Alexander took a deep breath.

“John, I want to apologize for everything that has happened the past couple of days—God, who would’ve thought we’d be here when you look at where we’ve started—know I don’t deserve you, but please, please listen to me, that’d be enough, and I’ll leave again after if you want me to, but please hear me out—”

“Keep it short. We’re in the middle of something. Also, if you think you could, by any means, excuse what you did, you’re fucking mistaken.”

Alexander opened his mouth to respond, but Lafayette’s loud shriek interrupted him.

“What’s happening over there?” he asked, the same moment John lost his grip on the doorframe and swayed on his feet, “Woah there, John, stay on the ground,” he added softly, offering his hands for support. John swatted them away.

“I don’t need your help, asshole. _We_ have a karaoke pity party, and _you_ ”—he pointed at Alexander with his middle finger— “are not fucking invited.”

“Pity party?” Alexander asked, very unsubtly stretching the conversation. John nodded with his eyes closed, the alcohol hitting him in full force now.

“Daddy GWash broke up with Laf because he’s going to work with bigots, what a prestation. Also, why the fuck are you still here?”

“John, let me explain, please.”

“Fuck, you said that five times already, are you going to keep fucking saying that? Because then Imma close the door riiiight now—“

“No! Okay, so-uh… Fuck! I fucking rehearsed this, uh-okay, so, basically… I was really worried about you, because we all know about your father’s thoughts about homosexuality-god, that sounds stupid when I say it like that… But, uhm, so—“

“So you published the article in hopes that the public forgets about the fact I’m bent as hell, and you were able to save your own reputation in the meantime?” John asked, finding his balance again.

“It sounds worse when you say it like that, but I did it for you, John. When Seabury… when he interviewed me the first time, I accidentally slipped and told him about… about my feelings for you,” Alexander took a deep breath, and continued, “so I stopped him from publishing that, but as revenge he published that article about me. I knew you would get into trouble if your dad found out that actually _was_ you in the pictures, so I decided to exaggerate my affair with Maria to distract the media from you—I outed Eliza because I was _so fucking scared_ everyone would see me as a cheater.”

John crossed his arms as Alexander kept rattling, clearly on a roll now.

“I shouldn’t have published that story, I shouldn’t have violated her privacy like that. I’m still figuring out a way to apologize to her properly, because _god_ …” fresh tears welled up in his eyes and silently fell down his cheeks now, and even though John still felt a raging pit of anger in his gut, he was disgusted to find out that an overwhelming urge to wipe those cheeks now accompanied it. He was about to respond again, when footsteps sounded from the hallway.

“John, who’s there?” Martha asked with a small voice. John looked over his shoulder, before turning to Alexander again.

“Someone who was just about to leave.”

New tears dropped from Alexander’s puffy eyes.

“John, please…”

“You don’t want my forgiveness, Alexander. You need Eliza’s.”

“I want _you,_ John,” Alexander pleaded. John felt as if he’d just been shot. _For fuck’s sake._

“Goodbye, Alex.”

And with that, he shut the door.

 

* * *

 

 

An hour later, John’s phone dinged.

“Oh, Martie, Peggy wants to meet you!” he slurred, draped over Lafayette, who was casually massaging his calves. “She’s working at the moment, at our friend Hercules’ teashop.”

Martha laughed, “Your friends have crazy names. D’you think I could drop by right now?”

“Sure, she’d love that,” John murmured, burying his face in Lafayette’s shoulder.

He smelled good. Lavender, from that stupid perfume he always buys custom-made whenever he’s in Paris. “I really don’t feel like getting up, though,” John continued, his voice muffled in Lafayette’s shirt. He faintly heard Martha’s laugh.

“I can call an Uber, give you guys some privacy?” she asked, a smirk evident in her voice. Lafayette swatted her knee.

“We don’t do privacy in this house, sweet girl,” he winked, and Martha rolled her eyes.

“Gross.”

“You can... call, if you want to, y’know,” John murmured, gripping his hands on Lafayette’s biceps. The room was twirling around him, and Lafayette was his only grip.

“Great!” Martha shot up. John realized with a shock that his lips were pressed against Lafayette’s collarbone now, and his friends stiffened beneath him.

“Sorry,” John mumbled, and Lafayette chuckled softly.

“No problem,” his friend replied, and dragged his fingers higher up John’s legs, moving to his thighs.

John shivered. Martha’s voice sounded from the kitchen.

“John? Can I have your phone? I need Peggy’s number,” she exclaimed. He shot up, as if awakened from a dream, and grabbed his phone from the small coffee table, before practically running towards the kitchen.

“Here,” he handed over his phone, weirdly breathless from the short walk. Martha grinned innocently.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be gone in a second,” she murmured, and John resisted the urge to kick her. After typing the phone number in her own phone, she handed John’s back.

“I’m pretty sober right now, but I’ll call a cab, don’t worry.” She kissed his cheek.

“We’ll go sightseeing tomorrow, so don’t go to Times Square now, please. You’d be in traffic _forever_ ,” John laughed weakly. Martha rolled her eyes, “I’m not some sissy tourist, I live here now.”

“Yeah right.”

“Okay, do it safe!” she shouted after him, closing the door with a thud. John stood alone in the kitchen, helplessly. _What just happened?_

His skin was flushed, heated, and he took a moment to even out his breathing before going back to the living room. Lafayette was sprawled over the couch, his legs spread inappropriately wide, and when John walked towards him he shot him a mischievous grin. John slowly sat next to him on the other side of the couch, but his friend scooted over to him within seconds. Lafayette’s lips brushed his ear.

“I just had a marvelous idea,” he whispered, his accent thick. John gulped.

“Did you?” 

“Why don’t we continue this,” Lafayette brought a hand over John’s chest, and John’s breath hitched, “in my room?”

“Laf, we’re best friends,” John answered, but his voice died in his throat.

“So what? We have urges, we’re here right now, _cur non?_ ”

John’s knees wobbled when they stood up.

 

_Cur non?_

* * *

It was one of those shady bars that were already packed, even though it was merely eight o’clock. The music blearing from the speakers was bordering on pretentious, but it gave a certain atmosphere.

He’d come here only once before, when he had first arrived in America. Hercules had showed him the place: his then-girlfriend worked there as a bartender, and after they broke up, he didn’t want to go with Alexander anymore. So they found other places, like Yorktown. But the last thing Alexander wanted to do right now was visiting the place he met John "properly" the first time (if with “properly” you mean “dragging an unconscious John Laurens into a car and letting him stay at your place,” which actually wasn’t that weird to Alexander as it should be).

He was well into downing his fourth drink when he got a text from an unknown number. With a grunt he opened the text, fear welling up in his gut. _Not this again._

 

_From: Unknown Number_

20:27 Meet me outside, Alexander Hamilton

 

With his vision blurring just slightly, and the overwhelming conviction that his life was already practically over, he actually went outside.

 

At first he didn’t see her, but when he did, he wondered how he could’ve missed her.

She was standing across the street, smoking beneath a streetlight, casually leaning against it, her wild hair blowing in the gentle city breeze. He crossed over to her, and immediately noticed the freckles with a hard shock.

If John Laurens was a girl, he’d look _exactly_ like this.

“Whatd'you want from me?” Alexander slurred. The girl grinned, dropping the cigarette and stomping on it with her worn-out sneakers.

“Your help.”

“Are you—“

“—John's sister? Yes.”

“Why would I help you?”

Her eyes were captivating: young and bright, but a fierceness in it he had only seen in Angelica before. Maybe hers was even worse; Angelica’s was calculating and cunning. This, this was pure fire.

“Because I’m the only one you have left right now. Follow me.”

She immediately started walking, not bothering to look if he actually did follow. He almost had to run to catch up with her.

“Why do you need help? Is something wrong with John? Is he okay?”

Martha laughed, “You’re quite a talker, aren’t you?”

“You’re making me nervous.”

When they were on the corner of the street, she suddenly turned around.

“I’m going to make you an offer you can’t refuse. But first, you’re bringing me to a nice, quiet place where we can talk without being bothered.”

Alexander gulped.

“Alright.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading :)


	17. Burn/Shoulder His Legacy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> " _Why the fuck are you here?!_ "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *This chapter contains mentions of abuse.

John woke up with a pounding head. It took him exactly two seconds before he realized he was _not_ in his own room, and bad decisions of earlier that day flooded his mind. _Fuck. Lafayette._ He sat down at the end of the bed, trying very hard to ignore his naked roommate next to him. De windows were damp; it was raining outside, and the sun was already down. John checked his phone. _21:56._ He took two deep breaths, stood up, and send a text.

_To: Eliza_

21.58 Hey, are you at home? I was wondering if I could drop by

_From: Eliza_

22:02 Yeah I am, I have some other visitors too but they’d love to see you

22:03 Angie is here too btw

 

_To: Eliza_

22:05 Great! I’ll text you when I’m on my way

 

_Henry Laurens (4 missed calls)_

 

John sighed.

Shut off his phone.

 

* * *

 

 

“This place is neat. And their milkshakes are _great_.”

Alexander was still uncertain if he was dreaming or not; looking at John’s little sister devouring a huge milkshake at 10pm after losing _all_ of his friends sounded a but surreal to him. But yet here he was.

“So when are you going to tell me what you need?” he asked grumpily, picking at his fries. Just a few weeks ago he was eating fries with _John_ , laughing and talking as if they’d known each other for years. Now, his sister had to do.

“Relax. Like I said, I want to make a deal. You can only gain from this.” John’s sister turned her attention to her milkshake again.

“Then tell me what it fucking is,” Alexander mumbled. Martha rolled her eyes.

“After dinner.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Are you going to do something with those roses you have lying in the hallway? They’re starting to rot, you know.” Maria’s voice filled up the living room as she walked in, and Eliza, who was sitting next to her older sister, gave her a small, sad smile.

“Alexander send them to me.”

“Oh shit.”

“Yeah, it was kinda our thing. He always used to send them after we had a fight or when he fucked something up. Guess he thought he could save his ass this time, too.”

Maria sat down next to her. Angelica huffed, but before she could say anything, Eliza stood up.

“I’ll be right back. I have an idea.”

 

* * *

 

 

“That’ll be 22 dollars, please.”

Martha raised an eyebrow at Alexander, whose eyes widened.

“Excuse me?” he asked, in disbelief.

“Twenty. Two. Dollars. Please.” The waitress deadpanned, clearly longing for the end of her shift.

“But both our meals are 8,50!”

“Yes, the milkshake is five dollars.”

“Who pays five dollars for a milkshake?!”

“You, sir.”

“It was a damn good milkshake,” Martha added with a grin. Alexander shot her an angry look, before slumping his shoulder.

“Argh, fine,” he grumbled, grabbing his wallet from his coat. After he paid, Martha leaned forwards.

“Thank you for buying me dinner, old man.”

“Shut the fuck up, you’re practically a toddler.”

“I’m eighteen, so _you_ shut the fuck up.”

“Are you still going to tell me what I’m doing here or _what_?”

Martha leaned back. “Fine.”

She grabbed her bag, rummaging through it until she found her phone. Her face turned serious.

“Everything I’m going to tell you will be confidential. _No one_ can know about this. Not even John. Not yet.”

Now Alexander leaned forwards, frowning slightly. Martha kept her eyes focused on her phone, scrolling through it quickly. When she spoke again, her voice was a bit shaky.

“Okay, so, uhm… these were taken a few months ago. Before the, um, Benefit Ball John went to.”

She handed over her phone to Alexander. His gut dropped.

“Oh my god.”

Martha didn’t answer, and took a deep breath. Alexander zoomed in on the picture.

Her face was barely recognizable; multiple bruises covered her fine features, and two black eyes swelled up her eye bags. The most prominent was a large cut, starting just above her eyebrows.

Alexander eventually gave her her phone back, not speaking the entire time. An awful silence fell between them. After what felt like ages, Martha started to speak.

“Things got worse after John left. I had a relationship with our family’s physician, and my dad found out a few days before the Ball, an event I normally go to with him,” Martha took another deep breath, and Alexander noticed that her eyes were getting wet. He placed a comforting hand on her wrist, but she pulled away with a small hiss.

 

“ _Don’t touch me_.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Alexander whispered, “You don’t have to go on.” Martha just shook her head.

“Just… just fucking listen. He had lost control that night. I tried to run away, but he locked the doors. Told me I wasn’t allowed to leave the house until my wounds were healed. For a while after, everything was going okay again. I cared for my half-siblings, went to school when my face looked normal again, broke things off with D-David. And then…” She was trembling, and Alexander had to fight his urge to comfort her again. Physical contact was out of the question, so he just waited patiently until she finished her story.

“And then… we got into another fight, about my grades this time. He lashed out, so I ran away,” Martha paused, looking as if she was being choked, “I ran away, and suddenly there was this car—there ain’t never any cars around our place at night.”

Alexander’s eyes widened, the realization about where this was going dawning on him sickenly.

“I…”

“You suspect that—“

“Yes, that my father—“

“Oh my god. Oh my god.”

Martha suddenly lurched forwards with her entire body, before running away to the bathroom, her hand in front of her mouth, balled into a fist.

 

* * *

 

 

John’s hands were shaking on the steering wheel, holding a cigarette in his left one. Hastily, he took a drag before the light turned green, his window open even though it was still early spring and way too late. His head was still pounding, and he knew he still had alcohol in his body at this point, but he couldn’t seem to care.

 _Maybe Eliza would let him stay the night_ , he thought hopefully. Maybe she’d let him stay forever. The last thing he wanted to do right know was face Laf, and with his father’s missed calls, his apartment was a place he’d better avoid the upcoming days.

He’d sent a text to Martha tomorrow morning. Laf promised her breakfast.

Lost in his thoughts, he almost drove past Eliza’s house, and had to stop with a screeching halt. He lighted his third cigarette, shut down the car, and opened the car doors.

When he knocked, he faintly heard Eliza’s familiar voice from the other side of the door.

“John, I thought you wouldn’t come anymore, you didn’t text—oh my gosh, what happened to _you_?” Eliza stepped forwards, softly laying her hand in his neck.

“Oh baby, I thought this would end after college,” she laughed worryingly.

It was true; it had become a habit of them in college. John was insecure: John would beat someone up. John would beat someone up: John would get beaten up by said someone in return. John would get beaten up: John would go to Eliza’s. Eliza would cancel her “dates” with Alexander in order to tend to his wounds. Eliza would comfort him, talk with him about his _feelings_.

The last time they did that, though, was two and a half years ago.

 

Yet here he was, with a bleeding nose and a black left eye. Back at ground zero.

“Let’s get inside, yeah? I think I have some icepacks in the freezer.” She splayed her hand on his lower back, gentle. Always gentle. John suddenly felt very bad about his decision to visit a bar before going to Eliza’s.

“M’sorry, ‘Liza. I’m s’pposed to comfort _you_ —“

“Shut up, John,” Eliza interrupted, at the same time Angelica walked into the kitchen.

“Well, what do we have here. This really is a depressing party, isn’t it?” she asked, less venom in her voice John expected. He grinned sheepishly at her.

“I had a pretty frustrating night,” he murmured, hissing when Eliza smacked an icepack on his eye without warning.

“Tell me about it,” Eliza replied softly. Angelica grimaced. “Let’s not talk about all of that, though. We’ll deal with the media later.”

John was about to reply, when other footsteps sounded from the hall, followed by a _very_ familiar voice.

“Who’s there?”

“John,” Angelica replied, and Maria stepped inside, leaning against the counter next to Eliza.

“Since when do you know each other?” John asked, a small laugh in his voice. Eliza smiled fondly.

“I’ve known Maria from college, but I never met her in person.”

“So basically, since Alex decided to be a piece of shit,” Angelica added. John nodded gravely.

“Cool.”

“Are you staying the night, too?” Maria asked, and John almost thought she made a suggestive remark, before Eliza jumped up.

“Yeah, are you John? We can have a sleepover, it’ll be fun! I think I still have _Silence of the Lambs_ on DVD somewhere, you know, that one movie we always used to watch together—“

“Okay, okay, calm down!”

John laughed, wincing when Eliza pressed a little too hard on his eye in her enthusiasm. “Oops, sorry!” she squeeked, and the entire room almost cooed at how adorable she sounded.

“You know, for someone who’s the center of attention in about every media platform at the moment, you’re acting pretty cool about it,” John remarked, and he saw Angelica shake her head disapprovingly from the corner of his eyes. _Not the right time, John._

Eliza’s shoulders slumped a little. “There’s not much I can do. But like Angie said, I’ll face the media tomorrow. I deleted some of my social media platforms, and Peggy is handling my Instagram, the angel. Anyways, I just wanted to have one more normal night, before…”

Tears welled up in her eyes, and John _really_ regretted his remark now. He put a strong hand on her shoulder.

“Hey, it’s okay. Let’s watch that movie, order some food. You’re going to be alright. We love you, okay? That’s why we’re here. We’re here for you.”

Eliza hiccupped.

“You’re the sweetest, John. You’re right. It just… it just hurts so much,” she let out a heart wrenching sob, “It just hurts so much, you know? Because I loved him, too.”

John shared a look with Angelica. And then with Maria. And then, almost as if they rehearsed it, they simultaneously replied,

“Yeah, me too.”

 

* * *

 

 

Alexander could hear Martha retching from one of the bathroom stalls when he opened the door. It was a typical, greasy diner bathroom, but luckily they were alone. Her voice hitched when she heard his footsteps.

“Martha, it’s Alexander. I wanted to check in with you.” He tried to lower his voice as much as he could.

It took a long time before he heard a response.

“I, uh. I’ll be back in a sec.” Martha’s voice was trembling even heavier than at their table. Alexander sat down on the toilet in the stall next to her.

“I’ll stay with you, if that’s okay. You can talk to me, or not. Whatever you want.”

Martha didn’t reply, but the retching sounds continued, making Alexander wince. He continued.

“I… I think you were very brave out there, Martha. I mean it. But truth be told, I think I’m the last person in the world right now who deserves that much trust from someone.”

He heard a small huff from the stall next to him,

“Tha-that’s probably why I chose y-you. You have n-nothing to lose, y-y’know.”

The retching sounds continued, and soon Alexander’s chuckle was interrupted by the sound of vomiting. He doubted it had anything to do with their dinner. After Martha was finished, Alexander spoke again.

“I want to help you. No, scratch that. I’m _going_ to help you. It’s the least I can do. I don’t need anything in return, just… we just have to find a way to get you out of this mess.”

Martha’s laugh was wretched.

“A real mess it is. Now’s probably not the right time to tell you what my plan was, but damn, this whole evening has been a disaster.”

“Shoot,” Alexander replied, too fast. Martha fell silent for a while, and it took a few seconds before the shifting sounds made Alexander realize she was probably wiping off her mouth. Her voice was raspy when she finally spoke.

“I want to file a restraining order against my father, and I want you to be my lawyer. With that, I have two requests. One: I don’t want John to get dragged into this,” she paused, standing up on her wobbly knees, “And two: they moment I file in the order, I want to be absolutely fucking sure I’m going to win my case.”

They both stepped out of the stalls at the same time, and Martha practically fell on Alexander’s shoulder, her legs weak and her face as pale as a ghost. Alexander supported her with his left arm, and this time she didn’t flinch. He stuck out his right hand.

“You have a deal.”

Her handshake was a little bit firmer than he expected.

 

* * *

 

 

“So before I arrived, you were… burning flowers?”

Eliza shrugged, sitting down in front of her old-school fireplace. A pile of rotting roses were splayed next to her cushions, and from the empty mugs John could guess they’d been sitting there for a while before he arrived.

“It’s cathartic, in a weird way. Almost some sort of meditation.”

“I knew you were secretly a pyromaniac,” John chuckled, and gave her a soft shove. Maria fell down next to Eliza, swaying into her side a little.

“Pass me another,” she grinned. Eliza ceremoniously handed her a rose.

“As you wish, Madame.”

“Why thank you.”

“You’re both crazy.”

“You know, red is my favorite color,” Eliza remarked offhandedly, before dumping another flower into the fire.

“Really? Mine too!” Maria laughed, following Eliza’s example. She hunched over the other girl to grab a new rose, and John failed to notice Eliza’s faint blush.

“Alexander used to take advantage of it, always buying me red roses,” Eliza laughed bitterly, picking at the thorns of her new flower. John raised an eyebrow.

“There’s a pink one in there, too, though.”

“Yeah, just one.”

“That must’ve been some stupid ass florist, then,” Maria laughed nervously, obviously trying to heave the tension.

“No, not a mistake. Red always meant “sorry.” Pink means, “I love you.”

An awkward silence fell between them.

“Well, he should’ve sent a truckload of fucking pink flowers, if you ask me,” Maria suddenly exclaimed, and after two seconds of complete silence, Eliza fell backwarks, a hysterical laugh escaping her.

“That shitty son of a bitch!” She shouted, and Maria started giggling, laying down next to her. Their eyes met, and they both snorted, which resulted in them laughing even harder. John rolled his eyes, staring fondly at them. He was about to lay next to them too (the pile of pillows Eliza had dumped all around her fireplace were _very_ tempting) before Angelica stormed in.

“John, why aren’t you answering Laf’s calls? He tried to reach for about a _million_ times, jesus Christ!”

John shot up.

“You spoke with him?!”

“Yes, just now, John, it was about your _fucking little sister_!”

He walked towards Angelica.

“What about her?”

“Laf wanted me to say she hasn’t come home yet—he contacted Peggy. John, Pegs hasn’t seen her all night.”

Eliza let out a soft gasp.

“Oh my god. I have to find her.”

“Yeah, that’s what I was fucking thinking!” Angelica exclaimed, but John was already rushing towards the hallway. He turned on his phone.

 

_Henry Laurens (13 missed calls)._

 

John's stomach churned, fearing the worst.

The three girls helped him put on his coat clumsily, and Eliza gave him a quick peck on his cheek before he left. He dialed his sister’s phone number. And again. And again. And again.

 

* * *

 

 

“Martha! Martha!”

_Oh god, she’s save, she’s save, she’s—_

“ _Why the fuck are you here?!”_

 

John was running towards his apartment the moment he saw his sister step out of the taxi. The last thing on earth he expected, though, was to have _Alexander fucking Hamilton_ follow up behind her.

“John, calm down, he’s—“ Martha started, but John was already standing in front of Alexander, shoving him hard.

“Are you out of your _fucking_ mind _?!”_ he exclaiming, giving Alexander another shove.

“John! Stop!” Martha screamed, desperately trying to hold her brother back. Alexander looked frozen in shock.

“Oh my god, what happened to you?” Martha grasped at John’s face with a sob, and John grimaced, effectively distracted by his little sister’s concern.

“It’s nothing, Martie, I just had a little disagreement—“ “John! _Merde,_ I heard you screaming from upstairs, what is going on— _“_

 _Oh no—_ “Laf, please, just go back to the apartment,” John shouted at the figure in the doorway, refusing to look him in the eye. He turned to Alexander again, quickly slipping out of his sister’s arms.

“What the _fuck_ were you doing with my little sister? You’re—god—you’re _fucked up_ , you’re _sick—“_ He tutted his lips, before spitting directly in Alexander’s face. Alexander winced, tears welling up in his eyes, whispering softly, “You really think I’d do—“

“—JACK, FUCKING STOP IT, HE DIDN’T DO SHIT BUT HELP ME!”  
“WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO TO HER, HUH?”

“ _John, calm down_ —“ Lafayette reached out to his roommate, touching his shoulder with his fingertips—

“ _DON’T TOUCH ME_.”

“Oh my god John, did you just fucking _spit_ on him?” Martha screeched, running towards Alexander, pushing her brother aside. She turned to face him.

“And you’re calling _him_ sick? You know who would’ve done this? _DAD!”_

 

“ _ARE YOU SAYING I’M LIKE—“_

 

_“John, mon cher, stop!”_

“ _Mon cher_?” Alexander asked, indignantly. “ _Oh my god, are you two—“_

“No!” John shouted, and Alexander immediately noticed Lafayette’s hurt reaction.

“… _But you did_.”

“That’s none of your _fucking_ business, now get the _fuck_ away from my _little sister_!”

“Jack, what the _fuck,_ do you even _listen_ to me? I WAS THE ONE WHO APPROACHED HIM,” Martha shouted, holding back her brother again. Lafayette jumped in this time, ignoring John’s protests with a grimace.

“John, please calm down, I’ll explain when we’re back inside,” Martha pleaded.

Alexander stared at the three of them, silent tears running down his cheeks.

 

He hadn’t wiped away the spit yet.

 

“John, sssh, it’s okay, sssh,” Lafayette whispered. John was screaming incoherently now, aimed at no one in particular, eyes glazed.

“I-I think he’s having a panic attack,” Alexander remarked, and his voice broke. “I’ve-I’ve s-seen it before,” he continued, whispering, “Oh God.”

“So what do we do?” Martha asked, grunting as she firmed her straining grip on one of John’s arms.

Alexander let out a small, involuntary sob. “Uh, j-just count with him, it grounds people.”

Martha nodded, and Lafayette immediately started, “ _One, Deux, Troix, Quatre, Cinq, Six, Sept, Huit, Neuf.”_

Alexander let out another sob, the other painfully unaware of his déjà vu.

“I s-should probably leave.”

He shot one last important glance at Martha, who nodded at him again, before turning her attention to her brother.

“John, count with us, okay? You’re safe. I’m safe.”

She repeated it multiple times, and John tried the hardest he could to reply, but he couldn’t.

_No, Martha, we’re anything but safe. Anything but safe._

That night, despite her previous intentions, Martha told him everything.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this was so fucking hard to write—it never happened to me before I got this mentally drained from writing. 
> 
> Small disclaimer: I have no personal experience with any form of abuse, all I did was research about the subject. I tried to write this as realistically as possible, but this remains a fictional story. If you are experiencing any form of abuse, please know that there are people there for you, and find help.  
> I'm still pretty young, and everything I write comes from secondary research, so please do not take my story too seriously—I'm still learning along the way.
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you for reading<3


	18. And just like that, it's over

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "They started out on the floor of his bedroom, sharing a joint, when Martha starting telling him what happened to her back home. Piece by piece, John understood. Why she asked Alexander for help. Why she didn’t want to drag him into it.
> 
> But she was damn wrong if she thought he wasn’t going to fucking haul himself into it now."

John didn’t sleep that night.

He let his sister camp out in his bed, since they both couldn’t stand to be alone right now. Not after what happened.

They started out on the floor of his bedroom, sharing a joint, when Martha starting telling him what happened to her back home. Piece by piece, John understood. Why she asked Alexander for help. Why she didn’t want to drag him into it.

But she was damn wrong if she thought he wasn’t going to fucking _haul_ himself into it now.

After they finished smoking, Martha claimed she was tired, and promptly fell asleep on John’s bed. John had watched her with a light frown; he felt his heart shatter when he thought about everything she'd been through. Waves of guilt overtook him when he realized that he hadn’t been there for her. Never.

_When had he ever been anything but selfish to his family?_

_Maybe his father was right about him all along._

Thoughts like these kept John up for the entirety of the night, accompanied with guilt about his behavior towards Lafayette and Alexander. _God, he really was an asshole_.

His eyes fell on a small notebook on his bedside, one he’d almost forgotten about. _When was the last time he’d drawn_? He picked up the journal, skipped through it. Pages full of nature drawings: flowers, animals, plants… When he was younger, he used to slip into the big plantation garden of his house, and draw the whole day while he was supposed to do homework. His father would shout at him for neglecting school, but his mother would always smile. Before she passed away, of course.

John picked up a pencil, drew a line. And another. And suddenly he was _drawing_ , not sketching or roughly outlining like he normally did lately, but _really drawing._ The delicate wild roses and dandelions he could still draw from memory. They weren’t as beautiful or detailed as his old ones, where he actually had the real thing in front of him, but still.

His mind had finally shut off.

At 4am, John decided to get breakfast. He could _really_ use a sandwich right now, and with slow movements, he got his toaster from the cupboards. _If he held his breath, he could hear his own heart beating_ , he thought absentmindedly.

He jolted when a voice interrupted his thought process.

“Can’t sleep?”

Lafayette was standing in the doorway, tired and sad.

“Nope.” John turned to his toaster, silently shoving two bread slices into it.

“Me neither.” Lafayette sat down on one of the kitchen chairs, burying his face in his hands. John stared at him awkwardly for a while, unsure of what to say next, when Lafayette spoke for him.

“I think we made a really big mistake by sleeping together,” he murmured, his voice muffled by his hands and two octaves lower due to his sleepiness.

John bit his lip, jolting again when his toaster dinged. With a sigh, he sat across from his roommate, his bread untouched. Lafayette still had his hands over his face, his shoulder shaking softly. He was crying. John picked at his toast.

“I’m so sorry, Laf.”

Lafayette looked up, and _yep, he’s crying._  “ _You’re_ sorry? It was _my_ idea, John.”

“I know. But I was a dick about it.”

Lafayette chuckled, his voice shaky.

“That’s kinda true.”

They fell silent again. John shoved his bread towards Lafayette, suddenly not hungry anymore. Lafayette took it, and slowly took a bite.

“Look, Laf…”

Lafayette looked.

“You’re the best friend anyone in this entire world could have, and you deserve… _god_ , you deserve the best, you know? And…” John took a deep breath, “I think we both aren’t in love or anything, and if we’d just _talked_ about it normally afterwards… but I ran away, and that was very uncool. So I’m sorry about it, and you have nothing to feel bad about, okay?”

Lafayette nodded, taking another bite to avoid answering. John continued.

“We both went through a lot of shit lately. God, Martha has only been here for _one_ fucking day, and I’m already crushing under the responsibility. Anyways, this is not about me—"

“—You don’t think I’m in love with you or anything, right?” Lafayette asked with his mouth full, his eyes wide in shock. John reacted the same way, before barking out a indignant laugh.

“No?”

“Okay. Good. Because it _really_ sounded like you were breaking up with me or something,” Lafayette grinned, his voice cracking slightly, “And I agree with you, you know. For the most part. We’re best friends. Nothing’s going to change that. Not even a slip-up like this one. But, I still was the one who started it, and I think we both would’ve felt better if we’d just talked about our problems, instead of trying to fuck it away,” Lafayette spoke, and they both winced at the words.

“It wasn’t really lovemaking, no,” John murmured, and to his surprise, Lafayette laughed loudly.

“Not really. I’m sorry to tell you, John, but you really have to step up your game.”

John groaned, burying his hands in his face.

“God, don’t remind me. But in my defense, I hadn’t topped in _ages_.” Lafayette chuckled softly, and John joined him. Their chuckle turned into a laugh, and once they started, they weren’t able to _stop_. John leaned back in his chair, wheezing hysterically.

“I really missed you, Laf. I missed my best friend Lafayette.”

Lafayette smiled at him, warmly.

“I missed my best friend John.” He spread his arms. “Now come over here, you gigantic piece of dick. Give mama Marie a big ol’ hug.”

“You’re right about the dick part,” John grinned smugly, but almost knocked over the chair in the rush of giving Lafayette a hug.

"By the way, John. I'm  _way_ out of your league."

John laughed sweetly, dropping down on Lafayette's lap and tapping his nose. "I hate it when you're right."

Lafayette gave him a warm smile, his laughter lines crinkling. 

 

They were going to be okay. He knew it.

 

 

* * *

 

“Good morning New York! This is James Monroe, at Radio NYC 177.6, and I’m here with a _very_ special guest today. For those of you who don't know: Elizabeth Schuyler was the main subject of junior attorney Alexander Hamilton's article, published yesterday morning. Alexander Hamilton has, allegedly without permission, revealed Elizabeth's sexuality to the public, and he has been hot news for the past 24 hours. Ladies and gentlemen, the very brave Elizabeth Schuyler is here with me today, to give us more information about the situation. Can I call you Eliza, sweetheart?”

“Of course, if I can call you James,” Eliza’s chuckle sounded over the radio.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way! Now, firstly, Eliza, thank you for showing up at such short notice. I hope you’re a bit awake?”

“Well, I actually get up this early every day. I have to open up the orphanage, after all.”

“I see, I see. A hardworking girl you are!”

Eliza laughed sweetly. “Thank you, James.”

“But let’s not talk about work! You’re here, after all. Now, a lot has happened the last few days. Do you want to talk a bit about it, Eliza?”

“I don’t think anyone would like to talk about these things, they are very personal, you know? But it’s what I signed up for it when I came here, didn’t I?” 

“You’re too clever for your own good.”

“What do you want to know?”

Monroe’s trademark laugh sounded over the radio. “Do you hear that, ladies and gentlemen? She flipped our conversation with one simple question! Ingenious. Well, Eliza. What the audience wants to know the most, I think, is how you feel right now.”

“That’s very sweet. I’m doing all right now, I guess. I couldn’t have wished for better friends and family. My sister immediately came over, as well as a few friends of mine. My father actually called me last night, too. To be honest, I never expected so much support from my surroundings.”

“And the media?”

“…Well, that’s a tougher one. I deliberately avoided the media yesterday as much as possible, so I’m not sure about their reactions. But you seem fine, so far.” Eliza’s smile was evident in her voice.

“How couldn’t I be, with such a sweet girl sitting in front of me? Could you tell us a bit more about your father’s reaction?”

“I don’t really want to put words into his mouth, but he was… he was amazing. He told me he loved me, and that nothing was going to change that. He also told me he was going to make a public statement about it soon, so you’ll have to wait for the exact words.”

“Excellent! A good man, Philip Schuyler.”

“He really is.”

“And how is your current relationship with Alexander Hamilton? Have you spoken to him after what happened?”

Eliza fell silent.

“… Not–not really.”

“Are you mad at him? Disappointed? There’s been a lot of critical reactions on his article, how do you feel about that?”

“… I… I don’t really have anything to say about that. Alexander’s situation in the press is not my business, and I’d like to keep it that way. I don’t want to have anything to do with it.”

“Erasing yourself from the narrative, I see. Very hard, very mature. Well, thank you so much, Eliza. One last question: what song would you like us to play next? I believe you deserve a nice song to start the day.”

Eliza’s sweet laugh sounded again, albeit a bit forced this time.

“Oh, that’s a good question, James. To be honest, I’ve always been a huge fan of James Taylor.[ Fire and rain](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C3uaXCJcRrE) would be nice.”

“Anything for you! Ladies and gentlemen, the lovely Elizabeth Schuyler! Have a good day, sweetheart.”

 

* * *

 

 “Jack Laurens? How are you doing, boy?”

“Uncle James! It’s been a while.”

“It really is. How’s your father?”

“Well, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about, actually.”

“Uh-oh. Is Henry getting in trouble again? What’d he done this time?"

“To be honest, uncle, thing’s aren’t so pretty at the moment. I reckon you are aware about the situation around Martha?”

“Most certainly, yes. Henry assured me she would love London.”

“… About that. Listen, A lot has happened the past couple of days. I know this is probably very out of nowhere, but I have to ask you for a favor.”

“Well, what can I do for you, my nephew?”

 

* * *

 

“Jack. You finally decided to stop ignoring you own father.”

“Indeed. What’s your problem?”

“Well, what do you _fucking_ think, _son_?”

“I have no idea. Enlighten me.”

“You disappear overnight, and so does your sister. Now, I really don’t feel like flying over to New York myself to get that little good-for-nothing back here myself. But you understand you’re both into a lot of trouble, don’t you, John? How’s _school_?”

John gulped.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Excuse me?”

“Martha’s in London. I spoke with uncle James the night before we left. I was wrong about Martha; she really wanted to go. Start over. So I brought her to the airport, flew her over, and decided to go home myself. I had nothing to stay for any longer.”

“Bullshit. Stop lying to your father, Jack.”

“I’m not lying.”

“Jack, do you want to stay in college? Do you want to keep your apartment? Because it doesn’t sound like it.”

“I do, father. But I’m afraid I’m telling the truth right now. Call uncle James, if you don’t believe me.”

“I will. But remember, Jack. If I do find out you’re lying, you can say goodbye to that bright future of yours, do you understand?”

“…Goodbye, Henry.”

 

* * *

 

“Come in, son.”

“Don’t call me son.”

Washington sighed as Alexander sat down. Alexander could _see_ his boss was biting back one of his fatherly worries. _Are you sleeping well, Alexander? Are you doing alright?_

“Now, I really don’t want to have this conversation, but I’m afraid I have no say in the matter, Alexander.”

Washington sat down behind his office, ordering his papers with a frown.

“Sir, if this is about the article—“

“It is, Alexander. Now, stop talking and listen to me,” Washington looked at Alexander, his face stern, “I have bad news for you, son.”

“Don’t call me—“

“—Alexander.” Washington sighed again, closing his eyes as he rubbed his temples.

“You’re not getting the position. The firm is under fire, because of your little mistake. Now, I see you opening your mouth—stop that, I’m not finished—I spoke with John Adams yesterday. He’s been in the business for years, and I’m confident he will make a suitable successor. Jefferson and Burr will not be chosen either, Alexander, _stop fidgeting_.”

“John Adams? John _Motherfucking_ Adams? That asshole that refused doing the case with the girl who was raped last year?”

“Alexander, _sit down._ I’m not done yet.”

 _Here comes the bomb_ , Alexander thought bitterly.

“As I said, I discussed the terms of agreement with Adams yesterday. He wants the job, for one condition. He wants you fired.”

“ _WHAT?!"_

Alexander shot up again, knocking over his chair in his brashness. Washington’s frown deepened even further, and a maniacal part of Alexander wondered how that was even physically possible.

“I’m sorry, son.”

“ _Call me son one more motherfucking time.”_

“Alexander, please. I know you’re upset. But hear me out. You need to learn there are consequences in life. And publishing an article like that… our firm is under fire right now. We were known for our LGBT friendly cases, and you put a blot on our reputation with what you wrote.”

Alexander grumbled as he picked up his chair again. He sat down with a huff.

“You can’t do this to me, sir. You know I had no choice!”

“I’m afraid I can, Alexander. Worse still, I have to. And you _did_ have a choice, Alexander! You didn’t have to dignify mister Seabury with a response! _Rumors are rumors._ Our name has been through a lot, but we could’ve taken another rumor—by confirming it, you made it _worse._ It was a cowardly action, Hamilton. I expected more of you!”

“You’re calling _me_ a _coward_?! With all due fucking respect, sir, you have _no right_ to talk about _courage!_ ”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Sir, it’s really none of my business, but you broke Lafayette’s _golden fucking_ heart, are you aware of that? Who’s really a coward, here? _I_ chose to be honest! That takes more courage than _anything_ else!”

Washington’s mouth fell open, and Alexander fell a victorious feeling swell up in his chest.

“What do you know _exactly_ about my… affiliations with Gilbert?”

“Oh, just that you broke up with him. It’s really not hard to guess why, you know. Wouldn’t want to _blot your reputation_ , right?”

“Alexander…”

“Give me one more case.”

“Excuse me?”

“Give me. One more. Case. I won’t show up at the firm, I’ll do it for free—just give me this last case.”

Washington narrowed his eyes, a silent question Alexander immediately understood. _Are you blackmailing me, Hamilton?_

Alexander stared back blankly. _Yes._

“You want to do a case… pro bono? Alexander, we are not known for—“

“—I know! I know. It’s not a case from the firm itself, it’s—someone asked me, personally. I have to do this. Please _.”_

Washington sighed.

“This is not the way our protocol works, Alexander. Adams demanded immediate discharge.”

“Sir, this girl—she needs me, _please_ , I can’t let her down—“

“How long will this case take you, Alexander?”

“A month, tops. I’ll be gone before Adams takes over the firm. I _promise._ ”

Washington sighed _again,_ and Alexander had to stop himself from asking if his boss might be deflating.

“Fine. I’ll talk to Adams. One last case.”

“One last case. Thank you, sir.”

Washington nodded, and the two shook hands. They looked at each other, a silent goodbye.

 _He has to fire his favorite,_ Alexander thought bitterly, and he almost felt pity for his boss. Almost. Before he walked out of the office, he turned around one last time.

“For the record, sir, I enjoyed working with you. And…” he hesitated, “And I think Lafayette really misses you.”

_I will miss you, too._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fact #1: James Monroe was actually one of the three people who first heard of the Reynolds affair, and he was a close friend of Jefferson—he send the juicy goss to his bud and Jefferson started the actual rumors (thanks, wikipedia and drunk history). I wanted to make a small tribute to the biggest drama lover of the 1700's, so have some James Monroe the radio guy 
> 
> fact #2: John's uncle's name was also James I'm seriously not making this up can you believe it everyone's name was James back then
> 
> Also: who got that 21 chump street reference? ;) ;)
> 
> Leave a kudo/comment if you enjoyed! I'll try to update again this week!! Love<3


	19. I didn't know any better

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So I reckon you’re still not over it all?”

The hallway was way too empty for Alexander’s liking when he stepped out of Washington’s office. For all but one person. _Of_ _fucking course_. Because it was just Alex’s best day _ever._

“Alexander goddamn Hamilton, well if it ain’t nice to see you here again!”

The Southern accent never managed not to piss him off, and he didn’t even bother looking at Thomas Jefferson when he walked past. He was too tired for this.

“Fuck off, Jefferson.”

“What’s that, Hamilton? Are you angry? Not having a good day?” Jefferson’s trademark smirk was evident in his voice.

“Thomas—“

“—I heard what happened, honey. Well, you’re never going to be head of the firm now, aren’t you?”

Alexander smirked. “I could say the same about you, _sweetheart_.”

“Oh, but you’re wrong about that—no surprise there, since you’re basically always wrong—Adams won’t survive for longer than a year here.”

Alexander rolled his eyes, but realized with a pang in his chest that Jefferson was probably right. He _did_ have more chance. _Fuck,_ Alexander was going to have to find a new _job._ With a wave of anxiety flooding to him, he walked away from Jefferson as fast as possible. Ignoring the taunting remarks of the other man, he stalked down the hallway. The last thing he wanted right now was to burst out in tears in front of his lifelong fucking _nemesis._

And then he ran into none other than Aaron Burr. Jesus Christ, the universe really hated him.

Oh wait, no, it _loathed_ him. Because trailing behind Burr, with her shoulders straight and her face focused, was none other than Maria _fucking_ Reynolds. She looked… different. Prouder. Alexander clenched his fist as he walked past them. He even ignored Burr’s usual, stiff greeting.

Somehow God—if there even was a God, which Alexander doubted—took some sort of mercy on Alexander: he only broke down after he stepped outside.

 

* * *

 

It was early in the morning, and Hercules’ shop had just opened.

John took a deep breath as he stepped in, somehow feeling nostalgic. Peggy was standing behind the counter, already sweaty. He gave her a tight hug, the cold from outside slowly seeping from his cheeks.

“It’s been way too long!” Peggy squealed, and John nodded softly. She gave him a free cup of tea, promptly taking off her apron and sitting down beside him.

“Herc is returning in an hour, don’t tell him I took a break,” she winked, and John pretended he locked his mouth, before making a throwaway gesture with his hand. Peggy grinned at him.

“How you holding up, John?” she asked, her chin leaning on her hands. She smiled at him, but it didn’t reach her eyes. John looked away.

“I’m okay, I guess. My sister kind of turned my life upside down, though,” he shrugged.

“That’s what sisters are for,” Peggy grinned, her eyes a bit too serious for it to come off as a joke. “Have you read the Times yet?” she asked, effectively changing the subject.

“No?”

Peggy sat up straight in her chair, her face proud, “Eliza’s in it. We read it this morning—we had a girls’ night yesterday.”

“What’d it say?” John asked, a nervous feeling creeping up his gut.

Peggy beamed at him, “They all love her. Dad’s writing this speech, too. The entire fucking LGBT community got a boost because of that Hamster, can you believe it?”

“Hamster?” John replied, raising his brows. Peggy rolled her eyes. John gave her a genuine smile for the first time. “I’m happy for ‘Liza, though. It’s the least she deserved.”

“Of course, there’s a lot of hate, too. But I guess it’s too hard for the majority to hate her.”

“That’s really not a surprise, the girl’s an angel.”

“You’d think that, although–“

“–MARGARITA–”

“–Uh oh–“

“–SCHUYLER, WHY AREN’T YOU BEHIND THE COUNTER?”

Peggy stood up faster than John could turn his head towards the gigantic figure standing in the doorway, but when he did it, he saw Hercules was smiling at him.

“Good to see you,” the enormous man greeted him softly, and then “PEGGY! GO MAKE SOME FUCKING COFFEE, DO YOUR FUCKING JOB—How’s life been, John?”

“I’m alright. Martha and Laf are dropping by later, by the way. I was in the neighbourhood,” John replied, grimacing as Hercules clapped him on the back before taking Peggy’s seat. Peggy huffed unsubtly, aggressively turning on the coffee machine. John could swear he saw her stomping her feet, and he hid his grin in his coffee cup.

“Nice. I haven’t seen Laf in ages. And I’d love to meet your sister.”

“My sisters are dropping by too!” Peggy shouted from behind the coffee machine.

“Shut up and work, Marga!”

“You’re one to talk, big boss,” the girl immediately retorted, cheekily sticking out her tongue. Hercules shook his head, but John saw his lips quirking nonetheless.

“So. A lot’s happened, huh?” Hercules said, shifting back in his chair. John nodded.

“You could definitely say that. How you been dealing with it?”

“Me? I haven’t. I’m not as socially advanced at the bunch of you, so no one’s bothered me about Alex’s fiasco yet. And besides, I haven’t seen him in days.”

John’s body responded with a start, shifting in his seat uncomfortably.

“What?”

“Like I said, he hasn’t been home for a little while now. I actually thought he was with you, to be honest?”

“What? Why would he be?! You think I’d let him?” John raised his voice, only toning it down after Hercules made nervous hand gestures.

“Calm down, you’re scaring off the costumers. I thought he was with you and Laf, since you guys have this huge place and all. But I guess I was wrong. Maybe he found someone new.”

John’s gut twisted.

“I know. The guy’s crazy,” Hercules remarked, shaking his head in disbelief.

The entrance bell ringed. “Well, what do we ‘ave here! Hercules, _mon doudou, tu m’as manqué, ça me fait plaisir de te revoir!”_

Hercules stood up immediately, shooting John a loving grin, “I never have any idea what he’s saying, but he makes everything sound so sweet, doesn’t he?”

Behind Lafayette trailed Martha, looking pumped and happier than John had seen her since their reunion. John hugged her, and after he introduced her properly to Hercules and Peggy they all sat down together.

“How was school?” John asked as Martha took a sip of her coffee. Her face lit up.

“It was great—this coffee’s amazing, by the way, Peggy! —Everyone was so friendly! No one even made fun of my Southern drawl,” she grinned, emphazing her accent in the last sentence. John beamed back at her. “I’m so happy to hear that, you have no idea.” Lafayette gave him a meaningful look across the table, nodding at him encouragingly. The two had talked about this before, and now they silently decided that the immensely expensive tuition fee had been worth every last of their pennies.

The entrance door opened again.

“I didn’t know we had a whole meeting planned!” Angelica immediately exclaimed when she walked inside, and Peggy squealed, running up to the three people walking towards them. She hugged her older sister.

“Calm down, Pegs! I saw you this morning!” Angelica laughed.

“Angie, save me! Mulligan’s been mistreating me badly, I don’t know where to go!” Peggy wailed dramatically, and the group chuckled at Hercules rolling his eyes.

“I’m your boss, Pegs, I have permission to do so!”

“Don’t bite, Herc, she’s not worth it,” Angelica smiled as she kissed everyone in greeting. She stopped at Martha’s side, her arms folded. “You’re John’s sister.” It wasn’t a question. Martha nodded, her eyes wide.

“I don’t bite either,” Angelica laughed, kissing Martha’s cheeks too.

“Guys, there’s someone who wants to meet you all,” Eliza’s soft voice interrupted. The group turned around, and Eliza gestured for the other person to step forward. John didn’t have to look to know who it was.

“Hey everyone, I’m Maria. Reynolds, but you probably already knew that. Not for long though, hopefully.”

Lafayette made a small sound in the back of his throat, which Hercules covered quickly with a loud cough. Eliza glared at them.

“Look, I know you all probably think the worst of me,” Maria continued, “But I’m so sorry for everything that’s happened. Eliza and I have talked about it a lot—“ Eliza nodded encouragingly—“And I wanted to apologize in person to everyone involved in this mess. It’s partly my fault this whole scandal blew up.”

Eliza’s eyes widened in panic. “Maria—“

“—Let her speak! I’d like to know what happened!” Martha suddenly spoke. The silence that followed was tense, and everyone prepared for the worst when Angelica arched an eyebrow at her.

“Didn’t know she was a nosy one, John,” she murmured, and Martha’s face turned red. Hercules coughed again.

“She’s right, though. You have to know we don’t blame you, Maria, but we’d like to know what happened,” he spoke calmly, already offering a chair to her. Maria sat down, and Eliza immediately followed her, as if glued together.

“What do you want to know exactly?”

“About the affair. Why you did it. What you did.”

 

* * *

 

 

Maria talked. And talked. Once she started talking, it was like she couldn’t stop. The whole table listened breathlessly as she spoke about James Reynolds. About her admiration for Alexander during college. About the start about their affair. She even spoke about the video.

“ _He did what?”_ Eliza exclaimed. Maria bit her lip.

“We were in a tough situation, financially. We weren’t–aren’t–happy. James wanted me to see Alexander, said he was glad if I was away, but called me a whore after our meetings. And then one day he came up to me, told me he had a plan. He...” she closed her eyes. Eliza put her hand on the woman’s shoulders.

“You don’t have to tell us everything, you know. If it’s personal.”

Maria nodded.

“Anyway, he… forced me, in a way. I was scared. So I did it. I filmed us, gave him the video–I shouldn’t’ve done it, I know that now. Everyone is so mad at Alexander, and they should be for what he did to ‘Liza, but I had a part in it, too.”

“We don’t really think so. You’ve been through hell and back, we sure as fuck ain’t going to get mad at you for being scared,” Hercules immediately responded. Lafayette nodded eagerly, pulling her into a tight hug.

“Welcome to the group, belle!” he exclaimed.

John looked at Martha. Martha looked away.

 

* * *

 

  

Two hours and a lot of caffeinated drinks later (which John suspected weren’t all that alcohol free, considering Peggy’s permanent smug grin), John found himself sitting near the window of Hercules’ shop. They’d decided to close up for the day half an hour ago, and Lafayette had used the opportunity to blast his favorite music full-volume. Peggy had pulled Martha on one of the tables, earning a shriek from Hercules and a fit of giggles from Angelica. Eliza had followed their example shortly afterwards, having a good excuse to pull Maria close on the small table. John had laughed it all off, distancing himself from the explosion of energy his friends were radiating.

“You okay? You don’t look so good.” Maria’s voice startled him.

“Look who’s talking,” John replied, immediately clasping his hand over his mouth, “I’m so sorry, that was so mean.”

Maria grimaced.

“You’re right, though. That seat taken?”

“Nope.”

“So I reckon you’re still not over it all?” She asked softly, placing a comforting hand on John’s knee. The question was almost subtle. _Not over him, you mean?_

“It must be hard for you. I’m so–“

“–You heard us before. There’s no need to apologize. We already spoke about this at Eliza’s, too. It’s over. He’s not like I thought he was. The end.” John spoke firmly, but immediately realized the coverage was gone.

“I know how you feel about Alexander, John. I saw it the first time we met you, all bloody and torn up.”

“And how do you know that? How do you know how I feel?” John scolded, his voice raising slightly. Eliza threw a concerced glance in their direction. Maria frowned.

“I didn’t mean to insult you, John. Just… Just know that Eliza and I talked about it a lot the past couple of days. The radio interview did her well. She’s doing better than anyone in this room. Better than you are, to be honest.”

A short silence fell. Maria bit her lip.

“I saw Alexander this morning.”

“You _what?_ ”

“Not like that! I… okay, you have to promise me not to tell anyone else just yet. Only Eliza knows.”

John’s eyes widened, confusion written across his face.

“I’m starting a process against James. I want to divorce him, but he refuses to, so I have to win this case. Now, I won’t go into the details of it, but I hired Aaron Burr for it. He works at the same firm as Alexander.”

“Yeah, I’ve met him. At the Winter’s ball,” John murmured. Maria nodded, and continued, “I saw Alexander this morning when I visited the firm. There have been rumors going around–about his job. He looked horrible. He looked sick.”

“Do you feel _sorry_ for him?” John hissed, pointedly ignoring Eliza’s stare from across the room.

“I’m not a monster, John. I loved him. He showed me what it was like to have fun in my life; he showed me life wasn’t horrible all the time. Of course I do. I got him into this mess, of course I do.”

“And why are you telling me this?”

Maria shifted in her chair, looking away uncomfortably.

“Well?”

She opened her mouth—

—And Eliza was standing between them in an instant.

“Maria, have you ever done the twist?” she shouted over the music, offering the other girl her hands. An invitation. Maria glanced at John.

“Eliza, I’m—“

“—Going to dance with me! John, turn that frown upside down, please.”

Eliza’s glance was deathly. John huffed.

But when she pulled Maria away to the group again, he watched them dancing together. Flushed. Laughing.

And he couldn’t help but feel guilty, too, when the only thing he could think about right then and there was _Alexander, Alexander, Alexander_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I SAW HAMILTON!!!!!! I SAW HAMILTON??!?!?!?!?!?!? I seriously never thought I would???? The cast was amazing, unfortunately I didn't see Mandy but her sub was _so good_ and Satisfied is now my favorite song in the WORLD. But seriously everyone was so talented and the choreography and lighting were so beautiful jfc.  
>  I also accidentally almost pricked Javier in the face with an umbrella the next day, and I was too shocked to say sorry oop. OH AND I MET LIN MANUEL'S DAD????? AND HE WAS SO SWEET???? AND SMOL??? Anyways I had a great time!!
> 
> Thank you for reading<3


	20. Get your right hand man back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You’re not gonna believe it. I was in the middle of this boring ass meeting with the board of advisors, you know the drill. So I grabbed my phone to play some candy crush—stop making that face, you know everyone still secretly plays that shit—and I got a text from George. He wanted to talk, so we met up for coffee—don’t judge me, okay! I missed him! —So we met up after work, and he told me that Alexander spoke to him when he quit. That he told him a lot of things that put our relationship in perspective. Also, he apologized. Like, a hundred times.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys. There's really no excuse for updating this fucking late. I kinda lost the will to write for a bit, and add some other personal stuff in the mix and things... kid of stand still. I'm so sorry you all had to wait MONTHS for this chapter, but it actually took me this long to write lol. It's kind of all over the place but it's necessary for the story. Don't worry, we'll get more of that good Lams stuff™ next chapter. I really can't promise when the next chapter will be up, but I feel really bad for making you wait this long, so I'll try to start writing more.

John barely slept that week. With two missed calls and a wary voicemail from his uncle asking how his sister was doing and an angry father passive-aggressively sending him text after text, it was hard to. John knew his father was harmless as long as he didn’t know Martha was with him, but that didn’t stop him from imagining every possible scenario in which his father might found out, not even to speak about the consequences it would have.

And that’s where the guilt he felt came in. A steady, ever-present awareness of how selfish he had been consumed him. The only rays of sunshine were Lafayette, who seemed to know him better than himself, pulling him out of his stupid moods every single time (with the help of wine), and Eliza, who had somehow become an internet sensation after the whole “coming out”-thing had blown over again. Aside from the constant sneaky pictures at her house, she didn’t seem to mind, and John was immensely glad it had turned out this way. Looking back, he isn’t that surprised though. Everyone loves Eliza.

Almost a week after the little get-together at Hercules’ teashop, John fell asleep around 4am. The birds were already fucking awake. His dreams were fuzzy and unpleasant, and when he woke up, he was sweaty. He woke up to the sound of voices, hushed but passionate, coming from the living room. With a yawn and a stretch, he walked towards its sources.

Wide eyed and looking worse than ever, none other than Alexander Hamilton was sitting in the middle of John’s living room, in deep conversation with his sister. The circles beneath his eyes were almost black, and he looked as if he’d lost at least five pounds.

John didn’t hesitate before snapping, “Get out.”

“Good morning to you too, big bro,” Martha sighed, rolling her eyes dramatically. John crossed his arms, as a petulant child, and murmured, “What is he doing here?” while shifting with his feet, the uneasy feeling of being in the minority crept up on him. His voice was still raspy, but that didn’t stop it from making Alexander flinch.

“He’s helping me with my case,” Martha snapped back before Alexander could open his mouth. “We met up a few times this week, but you’re a goddamn vulture, John. You’re prying on me every second of the day, so I asked if he could come in early.”

“You’ve… you’ve been meeting with — Of course I’m fucking watching you, I’m worried! Dad’s breathing down my neck _all the time_ , you just transferred to a new school in a new city, and your college application deadline is nearing. Do you have any responsibility whatsoever? You don’t know what he”—John pointed at Alexander—“Is capable of!”

“Yes I do! And it’s more than you when it comes to getting dad of your back! Just because our dad is a dick, doesn’t mean you have to act like one!”

Alexander’s eyes flicked between them anxiously. “I’ll just leave, it’s no problem—“ “No. She’s right,” John sighed, nodding at his sister. “You’re the only one who can help us right now. Just… just make sure Laf doesn’t wake up.”

“John…” Alexander stared at John, for once at a loss for words.

“I’m going back to bed.”

With soft eyes, Alexander nodded at him.

“Thank you.”

 

* * *

 

 

_“Philip Schuyler is hosting his annual Albany Ball in honor of his daughter and we are LIVING”_

_“Senator Philip Schuyler just announced the date for his annual Ball and his speech was the cutest”_

_“10 reasons why the Schuyler family is the BEST”_

 

* * *

 

 

_TO: MR. JOHN LAURENS_

_Dear Sir,_

_We are pleased to hereby invite you to Philip Schuyler’s annual Albany Summer Ball, this year in honor of Philip Schuyler’s beloved daughter, Elizabeth._

_Kind regards,_

_The Schuyler family_

 

* * *

 

 

Lafayette came back home late that night. When he walked into the apartment, he had the brightest smile on his face John had seen in weeks and his face was flushed a deep red. He fell down on the couch next to his roommate, sighing blissfully before exclaiming, “We made up.”

John sat up straight immediately. “You and Wash?”

“Yes.” Lafayette’s smile looked like it could end world wars. John’s mouth fell open.

“What happened?” he asked, trying and failing to keep his voice down—his sister was sound asleep in their guest room, finally. Lafayette turned towards John.

“You’re not gonna believe it. I was in the middle of this boring ass meeting with the board of advisors, you know the drill. So I grabbed my phone to play some candy crush—stop making that face, you know everyone still secretly plays that shit—and I got a text from George. He wanted to talk, so we met up for coffee—don’t judge me, okay! I missed him! —So we met up after work, and he told me that Alexander spoke to him when he quit. That he told him a lot of things that put our relationship in perspective. Also, he apologized. Like, a hundred times.”

“Alexander made him reconsider your relationship?” John’s eyes widened.

“Sssh! Do you _want_ to wake up your sister or what?”

“Sorry, sorry,” John replied, his voice significantly softer now. “But seriously, how did that happen?”

Lafayette’s face turned serious, a small crease between his eyebrows appearing. “He’s not the evil bad guy you make him out to be. A lot of things happened in the past few weeks, I know that. But John, Alexander is a good guy.” John grumbled, about to speak— “Don’t interrupt me John. I know what you’re thinking right now. But I’ve known Alex for a very long time, much longer than you do. He does a lot of… how do you say it again?”—Lafayette snapped his fingers. “Oh! Reckless. He does a lot of reckless things, and it didn’t work out well. But he’s got his… heart! His heart in the right place.”

“How much Pinot Grigio did you drink? The last time you had this much trouble figuring out which words to use was when I first met you at that house party when you were absolutely hammered,” John chuckled uncomfortably. Lafayette shot him an unimpressed look.

“Don’t change the subject, my English is better than yours and you know it. Now, I’m going to bed, I’ve had a very long day.” Lafayette stood up from the couch, and walked towards his bedroom with a yawn. Before he opened the door, he turned around, and when he spoke his voice was a lot softer.

“Just… just think about what I said, okay?”

“Okay, Laf. Goodnight.”

 

That night, John dreamt of Alexander again.

When he woke up, he got a missed phone call and a message in his voicemail from the very same person.


End file.
